


The Blood That Binds Us

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Multi, Vampire AU, Vampire Steve Rogers, limited pov, long long long burn, sharon carter appreciation month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 84,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Johann Schmidt's vampire forces overwhelm the Allies, he creates a new order in which humans are the lowest of the low and even the vampires are kept under his thumb. Peggy Carter, the woman who not only fought him during the War but helped the resistance after, is captured and kept as a trophy. Dying, Peggy knows she has to ensure the safety of the only family member she has left. Doing so may bring about the Skull's destruction once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promise

Steve stood in the sparse room, his hands in his pockets as he waited. The room held only a small bed and an aged chair. The walls were painted a soulless gray. The floors smelled so strongly of disinfectant that his nose burned. He forced himself not to think about what might have happened here in the past.

He wouldn’t be able to visit her many more times. Humans aged too quickly and Peggy’s hair had turned white, her skin sallow and paper-thin. She was in her early nineties now, if his math was right. Old, for a human. She wouldn’t last much longer. They’d talked about it on some of his past visits, but the inevitability was becoming harder to deny.

He straightened as the door opened and Peggy stepped inside. The guards never manhandled her, he thought absently. Something in the way she carried herself made them treat her with a respect that they showed to too few of her kind. He shoved aside his thoughts about her longevity and showed her the smile he’d practiced far too many times on his way over.

Peggy’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw him, and his forced smile became more natural in response. It was hard not to smile when she was happy. She walked toward him as the door closed heavily behind her, her bare feet light on the ground and the white dress brushing her knees. She pressed her hand to his chest; the heat of her touch through his shirt wasn’t as warm as it had been a year ago, he thought dimly. It wasn’t even as warm as it had been a month ago. “Steve. Is it that time again? Or has something happened?”

He covered her hand with his. “Everything’s fine, Peg. I just wanted to see you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you did. I have rather a large favor to ask of you.” He lifted his free hand and lightly stroked her hair, wondering when it had gotten so thin. He was afraid if he stroked her hair too hard, he might pull it out. She was still so beautiful, but she was fading. She was fading, and there was nothing he could do. She was quiet for a second, and her eyes were sharp as she watched him. “I’d like you to adopt my niece, Sharon.”

His hand froze. “Peg...”

Peggy kept talking; she’d never had patience for being interrupted, he remembered wryly. “She’s all I have, Steve. Her parents were taken to another camp ages ago. We never heard anything about them after that. They’re most likely dead by now.” Her lips pressed into a line. “If it’s money you’re worried about,” she said, lowering her voice, “I tucked away some money on the outside before I was captured. It’s hidden behind some bricks in that alley where you used to get beaten up. The first one you mentioned to me, at any rate.” 

She paused. Steve hadn’t moved. Chances were that building had been destroyed years ago; the Skull had systematically razed nearly all signs of the old world before he came to power. He wouldn’t tell her that, though. She deserved to believe that some aspects of the world she had fought so hard to save still existed.

She pressed her hand into his chest. “Please, Steve. If you ever cared for me... We both know I don’t have much time. Don’t tell me not to think about this. I can think of little else, and something must be done while I still have the power to do so.”

Steve drew a deep breath. To adopt - _buy_ \- a human was expensive. It was one of the reasons the camps were so popular; renting humans to feed from was pricey, but still cheaper than owning one.

But when the War had first started, when he had still been human, Peggy was the first woman he had loved. She was the first woman he’d been able to have whole conversations with, and the first woman he’d ever seen whose eyes had lit up when she’d seen him. He’d been willing to do anything for her. He still was. “Is she anything like you?”

Peggy let out a small breath and smiled in relief. “Much worse,” she said with pride. “Or at least she was when I last saw her. But I love her dearly.” Her smile faded, her eyes boring into Steve’s.

He swallowed. It wasn’t difficult to tell what she was thinking; they were both thinking it.

Peggy lifted a hand and pulled her hair away from her neck. He could see the pink marks from past bites, the red scabs from his previous visit that still hadn’t healed. “You may as well feed as much as you like, darling. I doubt I’ll still be here next time you come.”

He traced the scabs with his finger. They should have healed by now... She had less time that he’d thought.

“She’s just called Sharon,” Peggy said quickly. “No last name. Her parents- The Skull and his people mustn’t know she’s related to me, Steve. She shouldn’t be kept as some dusty prize as I have been, or punished or tortured because of me. I’m so terribly sorry to ask this of you, my darling. She’s stubborn. Possibly moreso than I was at her age. I haven’t seen her in years, maybe a decade now, but I doubt that’s changed. All the Carters are stubborn. Tell her I asked you to do this, and she’ll- She’s all I have left.” She swallowed thickly, steeled herself, and pushed her hair farther back. 

“I’ll take care of her, Peg,” he promised. “I’ll keep her safe.”

She smiled; it was the kind of smile that would have made him sad if he weren’t suddenly so thirsty. His thirst made him feel guilty, but he couldn’t deny it. “Thank you, my darling.”

He touched his lips to her neck and closed his eyes. Her skin was thin, so thin he doubted he needed his teeth. But using the teeth made the bite hurt less, and he pressed them into her neck as fast and as carefully as he could.

He drank too much. He knew it even as her blood poured down his throat and she grew weak and heavy in his arms. But every time he thought about how this might be the last time he held her, he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t been there when the world had fallen apart. He hadn’t protected her. He had thought he’d lost her when he’d first woken up, and to find her again only to lose her once more, this time for good... he couldn’t let go.

He drank his fill and then kept drinking, and when he couldn’t drink anymore, he held her in his arms and listened to her shallow breath and erratic heartbeat.

It wasn’t until the call went out that dawn was two hours away that he picked her up and placed her gently on the bed. The sheets were thin, but he tucked her in as well as he could nonetheless. Her eyelids fluttered faintly, and he kissed her cheek, then hesitated. “I love you” didn’t seem like the right thing to say. It was true, but it wasn’t enough to encompass what he wanted to tell her.

“I’ll take care of her, Peg.”

He wasn’t sure she heard at first, but then he noticed the way her lips curled upwards in the corners. The movement was slight, but it was enough to show she’d heard.

He squeezed her hand and steeled himself. It wouldn’t do to show weakness here, and caring too much about humans was seen as a weakness.

At last feeling as if he wouldn’t betray himself, he went to the door and gave a solid knock. The door was opened in short order, and Steve held his hands behind his back. “This woman is done, but she recommended another. Sharon. I want to see her.”

The door clanged shut behind him, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. At least Peggy knew he was following through. 

“You’ve already fed,” the guard said firmly.

Steve glared at him with all the superiority he could muster. “To buy. But I want to sample her blood first and see if she’s worth it.”

The guard hesitated, then waved Steve forward, directing him to the office. The guard moved past him and spoke to another on duty. “We got a request for a human named Sharon. She in the feeding pens?”

The guard at the desk flipped through a notebook and shook his head. “Let me check the others.” Two more notebooks, and the man nodded. “She’s in the farming barracks.” He turned to look at Steve. “You sure you want her? She’s a dirt mite. Daycrawler.”

Steve nodded, a knot twisting in his gut. He’d heard stories of daycrawlers. All vampires had. The daycrawlers were the humans too ugly and sickly for feeding or breeding. But he’d promised Peggy. “I’m sure.” 

“How’d you even hear about her?”

Steve frowned at him. Act the part, he told himself. Act superior, like he was too good for this place. That’s what he’d have to be if he wanted to adopt a human, after all. “I asked around about daycrawlers,” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

The guards looked at one another, and then the one who had brought Steve in sighed. “I’ll go get her.”

Steve was waved to a chair to wait, and he sat silently as _Es geht Alles Vorüber_ wafted over the speakers. 

It was barely five minutes later that the door opened again, and a woman with short blonde hair was shoved in. She spun to face the guard, who blocked the door with his body, and Steve’s heart sank.

He could see why the guards had doubted he’d want her; if not for Peggy, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice. She wasn’t as ugly as he’d expected a daycrawler to be, but she wasn’t attractive, either. She was tall but lanky, seventeen years old at most. Her hair was dirty and unkempt, perhaps blonde, though it was difficult to determine. Her skin was tanned and coarse. Her feet were mottled with mud. Dirt was caked under her short nails, in the creases of her hands, and in her clothes. She looked like a wild creature that should be shot before the rabies progressed.

He got to his feet with a sigh and looked at the guard on desk duty. “Do you have something I can use...” He pointed at the woman’s neck.

Understanding, the guard pulled out a napkin and handed it over. 

Steve looked at the woman, waiting, and she glowered back. He frowned. Peggy knew how this was supposed to work, but either the woman didn’t know or was pointedly not doing as she ought. “Get your hair out of the way and tilt your head,” he said at last, impatient. If he could tell her that he was doing this because of Peggy, maybe she would respond differently, but he could hardly tell her that in front of the guards. Vampires were not supposed to be kind to humans.

She moved slowly, too slowly for it to be anything but deliberate, and Steve bit his lip as he waited her out. She might be stubborn, but she was mortal. She wasn’t the one who had all the time in the world.

When she had tilted her head the slightest bit and stopped, he roughly pushed it farther and scrubbed at her neck with the napkin until her skin was red. She hissed at him like an animal; he kept scrubbing. He didn’t want to get dirt in his mouth.

“That’s the proper angle.” His voice was firm as he held her head in place. She might have struggled, but he had an ample supply of blood giving him strength. He still wasn’t hungry for more, but he knew he couldn’t buy a human at random. Tasting her because she was a relative of his favorite human made sense, but they couldn’t know that the girl was related to Peggy. And buying her without tasting beforehand would raise too many questions. As full as he was, he’d have to drink more.

He bit down and forced himself to take a drink. He stifled a moan and drank some more, then took yet another sip before running his tongue over the wounds. Her blood was... good. It was similar to how Peggy’s had tasted decades ago, thick with vitality and vigor, but it was still unique. Peggy’s blood had always reminded him of summer walks in the country; this girl’s blood made him think of sunflowers.

He licked his lips, his heart hammering as the woman stared up at him, her eyes wide. She shivered, and he focused on the guards so he wouldn’t feel bad enough to offer her his coat.

“She’ll do. I’ll make the necessary arrangements and be back for her within the week.”

Without further ado, he left the office and made his way to the gate. He had to talk to Sam about this, and he had to talk about it _tonight._ He could only hope Sam would agree to this; it wasn’t as if Sam had ever known Peggy. Steve was the one who had made the promise. _And_ had just told the guards to begin the process on their end.

What if Sam said no?


	2. Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon says good-bye to Maria, who has some parting advice to give. Steve and Sam welcome Sharon into their home.

Sharon slept in the daywalker barracks, an above-ground warehouse with bunk beds shoved close together in stacks of four beds each. Daywalkers were the only humans allowed outside during the day, the lowest of the low, and were normally tasked with hard labor to make food for the other humans in the camp. They were also the only humans that had human guards around the clock, humans who guarded them in return for the possibility of eternal life. All the daywalkers - more commonly known as dirt mites - knew better than to trust the human guards.

It was the only life she’d ever known. Normally, Sharon didn’t think much of it. She didn’t mind the dirt or the cold winters or the hot summers. She was allowed to see the sun. Not all humans could say that.

Guards, the vampire ones that she rarely saw and that never failed to set her on edge, escorted her back to the barracks and told the human guards at the door that she would be moved the next night. They were also told that she wasn’t allowed to join field duty that day, and Sharon clenched her fists as they talked about her future as if she weren’t even there.

It was a relief to be back inside, listening to the locks fall into place at her back. It was an even bigger relief to find Maria waiting for her, awake despite how tired the older woman must be.

“What happened?” Maria stepped forward to lead Sharon away from the door; she kept her voice too quiet for the guards to hear on the other side. The guards were only too happy to pass on information to the vamps and get the dirt mites in trouble.

Sharon bit her lip until she was sure she wouldn’t cry. “A vamp came. He requested me for- for feeding,” she said slowly, suddenly all too aware of the clean patch of skin on her neck encircling a pair of bite marks. She covered the marks with a hand. “He- he’s buying me.”

Her voice broke, and she clenched her fists. Tears were not appreciated here. Vampires took it as a sign of humans’ weakness; the humans who helped the vampires took it as a sign they were right to think themselves superior. And Maria was the closest thing to a mother most of the people in the barracks had ever known. Letting the vampires or the humans who served them see her as weak would only disappoint Maria, and she didn’t want that.

She was surprised to find Maria’s arms around her, and she was so unaccustomed to the kindness the gesture suggested that she was relieved to hear Maria’s whisper in her ear. Not a hug meant for pity, then. Or at least, not solely for pity.

“Do you know where you’ll be?”

“Across the bridge,” Sharon whispered. “The guards said after he left that vamps in Brooklyn must be crazy and desperate to want daywalkers.”

“Find Natasha Romanoff. She works in the grocers’ district. She can help.” Maria pulled away and rubbed Sharon’s arms. “I’ve seen this happen before. Not often. But I can tell you some of what to expect.”

Sharon nodded. “I can’t do field duty today. And they’re moving me at nightfall.”

Maria nodded. “Vampires like their humans to be pale and soft. It’s why we’re the only ones who go outside during the day. They’ll want you on a night schedule, too. The sooner the better. They’ll probably make you take baths each day.”

Sharon made a face as she remembered being scrubbed with the napkin. It had burned. Vampires were bad enough, but none of them had ever rubbed her so hard with a napkin that it burned her skin before. Maria was the one who kept the human women in line, and she’d never had to hurt anyone with a napkin. When Maria gave an order, it was followed. Sharon had learned long ago that listening to Maria kept her safe; they all had.

"They’ll have customs on the outside,” Maria continued. “Rules. They’ll want you to learn them. Remember, outside of the camps, humans are status symbols. You’ll have to stop cursing.”

“Fuck,” Sharon muttered.

Maria sighed and pulled Sharon’s hair forward to hide the marks on her neck. “I’m going to miss you, Sharon.”

“You’ll get over it,” Sharon muttered. “Always a new human around, right?”

“Nobody as bad as you, Thirteen.”

Sharon made a face again. She wasn’t sure why some people called her Thirteen instead of Sharon; it had started when she was young. Then again, there were a lot of things she didn’t know. She’d heard someone say once it was because she was unlucky, but her aunt had punched him and she’d never heard any mention of it again. “Maria?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “I know that tone. Don’t get sappy on me, Sharon.”

Sharon shook her head. “I might not get another chance. I just... thank you. When they took me away from Peggy and wouldn’t let me see her again... You were- Without you, I-”

Maria wrapped an arm around her and steered her toward her cot. “When I told you not to get sappy on me, I should have remembered how much you suck at it.” She pulled the dirt-caked sheets on Sharon’s bed, and Sharon climbed up crawled under obediently. As one of the oldest girls in the barracks, she had a bed on top.

“Thank you,” Sharon said again. “I mean it, Maria. I’ll always mean it.”

“Hush. Just remember what I’ve told you, and you’ll be fine.”

Sharon nodded. _Natasha Romanoff, grocers’ district,_ she repeated to herself.

Maria touched her arm gently, and when Sharon turned to her, lifted her arm in the air in front of her face. Maria tried to teach them self-defense when she thought it was safe enough to do so.

Sharon nodded and mimicked the gesture.

Satisfied, Maria returned to her own bed. Like Sharon, hers was on top, but she had taken the stack of beds closest to the door in case there was trouble. Sharon swallowed. Maria had always protected them, even in little ways like taking the bed closest to the guards.

Alone in the darkness, Sharon again mimicked the self-defense move. She’d never left Camp LeHigh in her life. But if Maria thought it might be okay...

A traitorous part of her mind whispered, _Sure you’ll be fine. So long as the vampire doesn’t kill you._

* * *

Sam was already getting ready for bed when Steve walked in. “Hey,” Sam called cheerfully, climbing under the sheets. “How was your lady friend?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. “I don’t think she’s too well,” he said at last, setting the bag of books on his side of the bed. “We need to talk.”

Sam frowned up at him. As many decades as they had known each other, that still wasn’t the best phrase with which to begin a conversation.

He took a breath and spat it out. “She asked me to adopt her niece. And I agreed.” He pulled the books from the bag and laid them out on his side of the bed.

Sam picked one up and read aloud, “‘So You Want to Buy a Human?' Steve...”

“I know. There are hoops to jump through, and it’s expensive. But- but she’s never asked anything of me before, and this is important to her.” He swallowed. “I think she’s dying. And she wanted to make sure Sharon was taken care of first.”

“So we’re buying a human named Sharon who is the niece of the human you loved before you got turned,” Sam said slowly. “And... how, exactly? Memory serves, the Skull isn’t too fond of vamps like me. Humans mean inspections. Inspectors aren’t fond of black guys. And black guys aren’t fond of the whole buying people thing, by the way. I know vampires tend to forget history, but I expected better of you, Rogers.”

Steve climbed onto bed and picked up the book of regulations. “I know. It isn’t ideal. I’ve got some money saved up. And as for our papers, you got grandfathered in.” He gnawed his lip with his front teeth. Would their papers stand up to close scrutiny? Would the inspectors insist on rechecking all of their documentation? “Would it make you feel better if I’m doing it to take care of her? I’m not buying a person for me, I’m doing it to try and save her.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, sure. No one ever claimed blacks were lucky to be enslaved and civilized by white people.” He fell silent and cracked open the book. “Let’s just hope they don’t ask me any questions about vampires during the Civil War.” He opened the book and settled back against the pillows. “You know they have to eat, right? Multiple times a day.”

The regulations had been printed in the smallest type Steve had ever seen, and there were over a hundred pages. “I know. They’re expensive to keep, but-”

“So help me God, Steve, if you say ‘cheaper in the long run...'”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I was going to say, ‘I made a promise to Peggy.'”

Sam grumbled. “You and your promises.” He turned a page and grumbled again. “I’ll call the plumber tomorrow. Even I forgot they need plumbing, and I’m half your age.”

Steve groaned, then froze. “Wait. I’m not asking you to-”

“You don’t need to, man.” Sam turned another page. “We’re in this together. We’ve always been in this together.” He made a face. “And if we buy her, we’re sure as hell not treating her like a slave.”

He grinned in relief and moved to sit closer to Sam, resting his shoulder lightly against the other vampire’s. He never felt as if he deserved Sam’s support, but on a day like today, it mattered more than he could say.

* * *

She had never been so bored. Sharon’s hands itched to get into some dirt again, and the fluorescent lights in her new room hummed incessantly to the point that they gave her a headache. Relief came only in daytime, when the lights were turned off and she was plunged into darkness. Then, the only thing left for her to do was sleep.

The only breaks in the monotony were lessons on the rules and what else would be expected of her and in different guards bringing meals. They seemed as bored as she was; she doubted there were many other humans waiting to be bought, and it couldn’t have taken much of their time to bring her meals.

The worst part, she decided after several days, were the baths she was expected to take. She had to take them daily, whether she was dirty or not, and then tug the knots out of her hair. The towels had to be clean each time, as well as her new clothes. 

It was ridiculous. Why did she have to be so clean all the time? Why did her clothes matter so much? Why did the vampire even want to adopt her in the first place?

She was lying on her cot, glaring at the fluorescent lights overhead and trying to figure out how to stop the constant humming when the door opened. She sat up as she’d been taught, Maria’s words about not testing her keepers coming to mind, and bit her lip in puzzlement when the guard stepped away from the door.

Cautious, she walked forward. The guard did nothing but watch her impatiently, and Sharon slipped out and looked both ways down the hall.

 _Do not speak first,_ she remembered from her lessons. _Only speak when spoken to._

She sucked her bottom lip firmly between her teeth and waited. The guard closed her door and waved her in front of him, directing her out the door and toward a waiting car. Her eyes widened as another guard opened the back door and waved her in, and after a moment of hesitation, her speed to get inside betrayed her enthusiasm. She’d never been in a car before. She’d barely even seen them except from a distance while she worked in the fields. And now that she was inside one, she knew that they had seats and windows that she could look out of and carpet on the floor. It was like a room that moved, she thought, and it was a room with _buttons._ She quickly pressed one and gasped as the window moved. The windows could go down? She pressed the button the other way and watched the window go back up, then pressed the other way again to see how far down it could go.

One of the guards growled at her, and Sharon immediately dropped her hands into her lap and sat straight up, the very picture of obedience.

The very picture of obedience that had just rolled down the window and couldn’t put it up again without being told, she smirked to herself.

Air whooshed in as the car moved, and Sharon nearly fell back in her seat. She caught herself and pulled her face to the open air. If Maria and the others were in the fields, she could wave as she-

No. It was night, and Maria and the others would be sleeping. She hadn’t realized before that she wouldn’t see Maria again before she left. None of her friends. They had let her sleep and gone to the fields; Sharon had been moved after sundown while they continued to work. She’d never even gotten to tell them good-bye. Her heart sank. Sure, most of them had been moved to the pens over the years, but she’d still had _some_ friends in the barracks. Debbie, for instance. And Emily still had a few years to go before she got sent to the pens. There was no chance of seeing Peggy again, either. She hadn’t seen her aunt in years, but she’d hoped-

She should have known better than to hope. 

She was quiet as they stopped at the thick gate. She watched the guards suspiciously as they checked papers that were handed to them. They peered into the car to look her up and down, studied the papers, then handed them back. This time, Sharon was prepared when the car lurched forward again. 

She wasn’t prepared to drive over the bridge, though, nor for the city beyond it, and she leaned so far out the window that her guard reached over and pulled her back in. Sharon barely paused before she gaped again at the tall buildings that surrounded her, many of them overtaken by plantlife and rust and rot. Some had fallen into hills of rubble, metal limbs twisting upward. It was like an orchard of stone and metal, and she’d never seen anything so beautiful. She saw some vampires carting pieces of it away, destroying the buildings just as they had destroyed so many other signs of humanity before the War.

Rundown buildings slowly gave way to an expanse of land that had already been cleared of decay, rectangular scars marking where buildings had once stood. The land in turn gave rise to smaller, better kept brick buildings, miniature versions of the city they’d driven through to get here. The car rarely stopped, but when it did, Sharon looked out excitedly to see what there was. It was only when she realized that everyone walking around her was a vampire that she shrank back into the car. Her lessons had taught her that vampires weren’t allowed to feed from another vampire’s human, but she wasn’t marked yet. Even if she were, she knew better than to trust a vampire.

She certainly didn’t trust the vampire who had bought her. What had he even bought her for? She’d heard there were human-fighting rings. What if he’d bought someone from the fields, figuring she’d be strong enough to fight and earn him some money? Sharon had only gotten into a handful of fights in her entire life; she knew better than to think she’d stand a chance in a ring. Most of Maria’s self-defense lessons had focused on avoiding fights and not getting caught. Sure, Sharon knew some defensive moves, but Maria hadn’t taught her enough to survive a fighting ring.

She’d have to kill him, she decided. She’d find out how to kill a vampire, and then she’d kill him. And then she’d find a way to live out here before she went back and rescued the others.

Okay, there were a few holes in the plan, but she’d work them out in time.

At length, the car stopped again, and her guard opened his door and waved to Sharon. She glanced at the window, wondering when she’d get another chance to ride in a car, then quickly exited the car before the guard got upset. She craned her neck upward to the brick building above, and the guard grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.

She almost stopped just inside the doors, looking around for the beds, but the guard dragged her over thick, faded rugs and past a large table with a vase of fake flowers to a silver door. The room was empty of anything else, and Sharon frowned at the waste of space. How could even a vampire live here? He pressed a button next to the door, and when the doors finally slid open, he pulled her into a room that was too small for a bed. She looked around in confusion, her breath catching as the floor gave a jolt.

“Cheap-ass bastards,” her guard muttered.

When the doors opened again, the scene before her was entirely different. It was merely a hallway with dark wooden floors and dim lighting. The guard dragged her to a door all the way at the end as Sharon looked around in curiosity. Hadn’t they just been on the ground? And now they were... higher. All because of the moving room.

The outside world was actually kind of neat.

Her guard knocked on a door, and it was opened shortly thereafter by a black man, who stood aside and gave a half-bow. “Welcome. May I take your coat, sir?”

Her guard sniffed and dragged her inside. “I don’t intend to stay for long. I’m just here to get the papers signed and drop this off.” He let go of Sharon and pointed at the floor in front of her. “Stay.”

Sharon moved onto the spot he’d pointed at and stared openly at the black man. She’d never seen someone with dark skin before.

He stared right back, and she quickly looked away. There was a large bed on the wall opposite the door with a canopy over it. She could guess who slept there. On either side were large windows, and she almost ran over to see if they opened before catching herself and reminding herself to stay in place like the guard had commanded. To the left of the bed were a couch and some mismatched chairs arranged around a radio. Ugh. So they had the radios here, too. As if hearing them in the fields all day wasn’t dreadful enough. The radio played music quietly. She wondered if she could turn it off here; they’d never been allowed to turn off the radios at the camp. Across from radio was a kitchen; some of her lessons had talked about that. She mentally ran over how to operate the oven in case she’d have to demonstrate the knowledge for the guard.

The guard muttered to himself in the kitchen about food before continuing down a hall and out of sight. “This door will have to be locked.”

“Of course, sir,” the black man said. “We only left it open for your inspection.”

She heard a hard knock in the hall. “This the room where it’ll sleep?”

The black man glanced at Sharon and wandered away from the door. Sharon forced herself not to look at the door any longer than necessary; she knew that she’d never be able to outrun two vampires, especially since the black one was still taking pains to keep her in his line of sight. “No, sir. That’s where I sleep. She’ll be sleeping in the laundry.”

A gruff sound was all that answered him, and the black man turned back to Sharon. They studied each other while the guard continued muttering to himself.

Sharon jumped when a door off to the side opened, and the vampire stepped out, his blond hair darkened by dampness. He looked at her for a moment, gave her a nod, and turned to the black vampire. “Sam?” He held out his arms.

The black vampire - Sam? - sniffed. “It’d be better if you stopped wearing plaid, but it’ll have to do.”

The blond vampire nodded, his eyes following the noise from the guard, and he straightened his tie before walking down the hall.

Sam and Sharon returned to silently sizing each other up.

At length, the guard reappeared. “All seems to be in order. We’ll have to do more in-depth inspections soon, of course.”

“Every two weeks to a month,” the vampire filled in, following behind. 

The guard nodded. “I see you’ve read the guidelines. Not everyone does. Good. Human? Here.”

Sharon moved quickly to stand in front of him, and he set his briefcase on the counter.

“Now to make it official.” The guard took a metal circle from his briefcase. He waved an impatient hand at Sharon, and a knot twisted in her stomach as she pulled up her hair. She’d been told about this. Humans on the outside had to wear them to show they were owned. No one had told her she had to pretend to like it. The guard slipped it around her neck and clicked it into place. The sound made her bones ache. Without another look at Sharon, he gave the blond vampire a small key and presented him with a piece of paper. “Sign here, date here.”

The vampire did so, and the guard locked the paper inside his briefcase. “Inspection in a little less than a month. Enjoy.” 

Sam moved, and Sharon’s eyes widened as she noticed how fast he seemed to glide toward the door. Even the guard seemed a little taken aback. Nonetheless, as Sam opened the door, the guard left.

The door closed as soon as he left, and Sharon stood as still as she could, dreading what would happen next. She’d only been fed from once in her life; she’d never been owned. What the hell had the vampire even bought her for?

Heedless of her, the two vampires seemed to be waiting for something. Her fingers toyed with the ring around her neck as she looked between them.

As if on cue, they finally started moving again.

“ _Finally,_ ” the blond one said, shoving the key into the lock of Sharon’s ring. “You have to wear this when you go outside or when we think we might be inspected,” he told her firmly, “but other than that, nobody wears collars here.”

Sam moved away from the door. “‘Yes, sir. No, sir. Oh, that’s the servants’ quarters, sir.'” He rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you, man.”

The blond one grinned. “And I appreciate it. As always.” He looked to Sharon and set the ring - the collar - aside. “I’m Steve. I used to know your aunt, Peggy, before I was turned. She asked me to look after you.” At her lack of response, he set the collar aside. “And that’s Sam. He isn’t actually a servant here, but it’s better to pretend when the inspectors are around. And you’re not just a human. We’re just going to pretend so that we can make sure you’re safe.”

Again, Sharon didn’t answer, and the vampire - _Steve_ \- started to look uncomfortable. 

It was when he was uncomfortable enough to look to Sam that Sharon managed to push out the words, “You know Aunt Peggy?”

Steve nodded, his shoulders relaxing in relief. “I’ve known her for decades.”

Sharon frowned. Before the silence could get too awkward, she admitted, “That’s better than I expected. I thought you might put me into a human fighting ring or something.”

She’d never seen a vampire look surprised before. “No.” Steve frowned, confused, and looked to Sam again. “No? I mean, do you _want-_ Why-”

Sharon shook her head quickly. “Nothing. I just heard that happens out here.” She glanced from him to Sam and back again. “Does it not happen here?”

“Not in this apartment,” Sam said, sounding amused. “Come on. We’ll give you the tour.” He waved her over, and Sharon followed, peering into each room with interest. When they got to the room he’d told the guard was his, he said, “This is actually your room. We’re going to pretend you sleep in the laundry when the inspectors come over, but we thought this spot would be better for you. A little more room. Quieter. Humans aren’t supposed to sleep as easily as vampires, I don’t think.”

Sharon hesitated, then slipped inside. She turned slowly. There was a small window that had been boarded over, and shelves in one corner. The cot looked cleaner than any she’d ever seen, including the bed they’d used to train her for ownership. “I’m going to sleep in here alone?”

He nodded. “That a problem?”

She shook her head. “I’ve- No. No problem.” She’d survived sleeping without other people nearby the past several nights, she reasoned. Doing it for the rest of her life couldn’t be much worse. Besides. Did she really want to sleep with vampires instead?

Sam and Steve glanced at each other, and then Sam led the way to the laundry. Sharon studied the laundry machines with interest as Steve explained that she’d have to keep her clothes and personal items in the small room, and Sharon nodded as she saw the small bookcase with cloth boxes that held her clothes. They were all brilliantly, blindingly white. None of them were dirty or had holes.

“We had to ask for your measurements,” Steve said. “If nothing fits, we’ll get you things that will.”

She turned to stare at the two of them, her fingers stroking one of the shirts that now belonged to her. It wasn’t second-, third- or even seventh-hand, it wasn’t patched so many times that it looked like a pile of rags stitched together. It was new, and it was clean, and it was hers. “They’ll fit,” she said firmly.

They looked at each other again, and then Sam straightened. “There’s one bit left. Come on.”

Sharon followed him up a thin wooden stairway tucked behind a narrow door.

“We got the top level in part because we don’t have a lot of money,” Sam explained.

She nodded in understanding. “The guard called you ‘cheap bastards,’” she agreed.

In front of her, Sam stopped. Behind her, Steve did the same. She looked between them, wondering what was going on, and then realized she’d spoken without being spoken to again. Listen to Maria, she snapped at herself.

Sam shook his head. “Man’s an asshole.” He started moving again, and Sharon followed quickly. “Anyway, this is what sold us on the place. We might not be able to see the sun anymore, but we still like seeing the sky.” He shoved open a door at the top, and Sharon found herself standing on the roof. She blinked and looked around. She’d never been on a rooftop before, but Sam and Steve had evidently made a habit of it. A table and two chairs were situated in the middle of the roof. A dog-eared book on the history of the Empire rested on one of the seats.

Cautiously, she ventured out further. The roof beneath her feet was firm; actually, it was almost like another room up here, only one with no walls or ceilings.

One that could get sun.

She turned to the others to find them watching her expectantly. “I can come out here, too?”

Steve nodded. “You live here now, too, you know.”

She beamed, and Steve turned his face upward. “Dinner soon.” His gaze fell back to her. “Sharon, I hate to ask you this, but-” He looked to Sam.

“You still need blood,” she finished. Her hand immediately went to her neck to tug her hair over it as Maria had done back at the camp. Steve’s features changed. She’d never seen a vampire look so ashamed before. It was almost as if he didn’t like making her feel like she did. As much as she could appreciate that, she still felt this way, and they were still going to feed from her, whether she liked it or not. She swallowed and forced herself to push her hair back. “They told me how it works. Once a vampire owns a human, it can’t visit any other humans anymore unless the vampire buys them, too.” She glanced at Sam. “Are you- I mean, am I-” She pointed at her neck. She hadn’t realized she’d have two vampires feeding from her.

Sam nodded, looking only slightly less comfortable than Steve. “The rule goes by households. We’ll try not to drink too much.” He glanced at Steve. “And we should get inside.” He looked pointedly at Sharon’s neck, and she dropped her hair back when it occurred to her that she didn’t have her ring on.

Steve ushered Sharon back inside quickly, glancing behind him only once. He led Sharon to the kitchen and went to the refrigerator. “We figured you wouldn’t want to cook your first time here, so we went out and got something.”

“Neither of us know how to cook,” Sam confessed, pulling a stool out for Sharon before sitting on another. “Both of us _thought_ we did. One of us moreso than the other...”

“He was the one who thought he could cook,” Steve told her. “For the record.” He put a brown bag in the microwave and pressed some buttons. 

“I admit, I have a high opinion of my abilities. And for a _reason,_ ” Sam said firmly. He waggled his eyebrows at Sharon, and she smiled before she caught herself.

“You’re... not what I expected,” she said at last.

“Well, we’ll still need blood,” Steve said. He shifted his weight, glancing at her neck and then looking away. “Just Sam tonight. I’m all set.” He opened the bag and set it before her.

Sharon looked at the contents dubiously. The meat was steaming hot and on a bun. Unlike the meat sandwiches they’d been fed at the camp, this was brown and not orange and runny. She picked it up and took a careful bite. “What is this?” she asked, forgetting to swallow first. She did so quickly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

They glanced at each other. “A hamburger,” Steve said at last. “The book said you need an iron-rich diet. Lots of meat and fish.”

She nodded. “It’s good.”

“You think you like it now,” Sam told her, “try this.” He gently pushed her hands downward, took off the top bun, and put in other things from the bag. She’d been thinking about eating the lettuce and tomato as a weird salad on the side, but once he’d arranged them to his satisfaction and added red sauce, she took another bite and groaned.

“That’s amazing.”

He grinned and nodded. “I’m half Steve’s age. Maybe a quarter.” His grin widened as Steve snorted. “Okay, half. But I still remember some stuff about food.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We’re lucky we got the smoke smell out from our cooking attempts before the inspector got here.” He looked uncomfortable again and glanced at Sharon. “You’ll still have duties. We’ll try and spread them out between the three of us, but...”

She nodded, her mouth still full. “They told me at the camp that I’d have to take care of everything. They showed me how some stuff works. I figure after working in the fields all day, I can handle cleaning.” She watched as they glanced at each other again. “You really knew Peggy?”

He nodded. “And I’ll tell you more about her, but it might have to be tomorrow. Dawn’s coming soon.”

Sharon licked her fingers clean, and Sam swept the bag away and tossed it into a bin nearby before looking at her. “You’d better get ready for bed. Everything in the bathroom works. Your pajamas are...” He looked at her expectantly.

“In the laundry room,” she finished, sliding off the stool. She was far too energized to go to bed, especially with morning around the corner. If she were back in the barracks, she’d be getting ready to go to work by now. But she knew better than to outright disobey vampires, no matter how nice they seemed.

Minutes later, she was in the living room again and debating if she could ask for a change in pajamas. She didn’t mind that it was glaringly white, but after her years in the barracks, she didn’t like that the nightdress went all the way to her ankles instead of her knees, and it felt alarmingly thin. She tried not to fidget and studied her bare feet before tilting her head to the side and shoving the hair from her neck. Probably best to get it over with. “Sam?”

He looked at Steve, then drifted closer. He hesitated. “You brush your teeth?”

She frowned at him. She wasn’t a child, damn it. “Yeah. Yes, I mean.”

His eyes focused on her neck, and she wondered if he realized his pupils were getting larger. He licked his lips. “Wash your face?”

“Yes.” She found Steve over Sam’s shoulder; he gave her an encouraging nod.

“Okay,” Sam muttered. “Okay.” He leaned in, one arm going cautiously around her back as the other went to hold her head in place, and she gasped the slightest bit as she felt his teeth pierce her skin. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as when Steve had done it, she thought dimly.

At length, she felt his tongue run over the wounds, and he took a long, deep breath against her neck before pulling away.

“Okay,” he said again. “Um. Thanks.”

She nodded, astounded at how tired she suddenly felt. “Is it okay if I go to bed now?” she asked quietly.

Steve frowned. “Of course. Need help?”

She shook her head. “Second door on the right. Good night.”

“Day,” he corrected gently.

She nodded and gave him a wave of acknowledgement over her shoulder.

Her energy gone, she still lay in bed awake for a long time, wondering what Maria and the others were doing, thinking about her aunt, and telling herself that she should consider herself lucky - at least she wasn’t going to be tossed into a human fighting ring.


	3. Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon discovers an old-timey radio show for the first time.

Steve and Sam both waited until Sharon’s heartbeat steadied before moving again. Steve went to lock the front door and the door to the roof, and Sam to clean up the kitchen. Their steps were silent on the wooden floor.

“What do you think?” Steve asked softly. She’d certainly cleaned up better than he’d expected, though he didn’t say so out loud.

Sam shrugged, though the way he licked his lips betrayed him. “I think it could work.”

Steve frowned at him as he pulled the sheets down on the bed. “But...”

Sam took a breath. “You promised Peggy, I promised you. Yeah, it might be expensive, and it means more inspections, but we’ll make it work, man.” He rolled onto his side and turned off the lamp.

“I’ll show her around tomorrow,” Steve offered. Sam was already doing so much to make this happen. He’d agreed without question. Sam would likely never know how much the gesture - how much Sam himself - mattered to Steve. Steve owed him.

Sam shook his head. “Gotta play the part. I’ll show her the ropes outside. You do the stuff around the apartment.”

“Sure.” Steve turned off his own light, but he didn’t fall asleep until the sun rose. Keeping a human wasn’t easy, and part of him wished that Peggy hadn’t asked him to do it. As much as he had loved her, he wished she had asked anything else of him.

* * *

It turned out to be more of a problem than Steve had bargained for. “How can you not know how to read?” he demanded, his tone calm despite the feelings broiling beneath the surface. The books had all agreed that humans were frail and would scare easily; he didn’t want Peggy’s niece to be afraid of him.

He glanced at the microwave. Apparently, whatever microwave she’d been taught to use was different from this one, and his comment to “Hit ‘Time,'” had resulted in confusion that was now on the verge of mind-boggling.

Sharon pursed her lips in a way that reminded him the slightest bit of Peggy. “And when do you think I learned?” she countered. “We had to grow enough food to feed all the humans in camp. You think vampires were going to put human education over th-” She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and held them at her sides. She bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the table. “Sorry, sir,” she said harshly, obviously not sorry in the slightest. “I misspoke.”

Steve sighed and set the box of waffles back in the freezer before getting a box of cereal from the cabinet. “No, it’s okay. It just never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be able to read.” She rolled her eyes, but before she could open her mouth again, he cut her off. “I’ll teach you. We’ll set up a time later. Let’s go over everything else you may have to do.”

He walked her through doing a load of dishes. She acted as if she’d never seen a dishwasher before, and he realized with a small degree of alarm that it might not be an act. She seemed more familiar with the washer and dryer, though she had to ask him how to work each one because the buttons were in different places. In all instances, though, she was interested in learning. It seemed to be genuine curiosity, too, and he answered her questions as best he could. She couldn’t help not knowing, he reminded himself. No one was born knowing everything.

Still, he was relieved when Sam came and announced it was time to show Sharon around outside. She brightened at the prospect, and Sam had to remind her to brush her hair before they left. He also had to remind her about her collar, and she fumbled to get it on. Steve looked at Sam over her head - she’d have to learn to do that more quickly in case they were subjected to a surprise inspection.

And then they were off, leaving Steve in an empty and blissfully quiet apartment. He hadn’t realized how loud humans were. The heartbeat that reverberated, the air that rattled in the lungs. He sighed. He owed Sam.

* * *

“Calm down,” Sam told her, his hands in his pockets as they walked up the sidewalk. “You’re acting like you’ve never been outside before.”

She looked sideways at him. “I’ve never been outside in a town before.”

He lifted a brow. He supposed he should have expected that answer, given that she had apparently lived in a camp for so long. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s fine. But you need to get used to it. You’re a human, and you’ll have to do this alone soon. Whether you belong to another vampire or not, you still have to be careful. And that means acting like you know what you’re doing.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” she reminded him.

“That’s why you’ll have to act.” She’d have to learn to act about a lot of things, he thought. Sam sighed and turned down a street. In the distance, he could hear shouts and jeers. He was surprised Sharon hadn’t asked about them yet; she’d been asking about everything else, from how streets got their names to why there were so few vampires for all the buildings. He tried to answer them with all the patience fifty some-odd years of life had given him, but even he had his limits. He could vaguely remember a nephew who had asked questions without end, but most of his memories of his life before were faded and jumbled to the point he couldn’t even remember the boy’s name. “So what was Steve saying? That you can’t read?”

She shrugged. “I’m not a vampire, so no one ever taught me. Can everyone out here read?”

“Not since you came to town. Now it’s everybody minus one.”

She grinned, her face finally turning in the direction of the noise. Good. She’d finally heard it. He’d started to worry she might have a hearing problem. Of course, she’d taken so long to hear the clamor that he couldn’t rule it out completely. Maybe he should talk to Steve about how to test such things and make sure she was okay. The administrators at Camp Lehigh had assured them of her health, but they’d be fools to believe a camp that had sold them a human.

He hurried to cut off any questions. “Follow my lead. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, act like you do.” He saw her mouth open and said quickly, “And no questions until we’re back at the apartment. You don’t want to seem stupid in front of these people.”

Her mouth closed immediately.

“And let me take care of buying stuff if we need to buy anything.”

She nodded, and Sam greeted some of the vampires they passed on the way to the market. He and Steve had lived here long enough that he knew most of the vampires by name. In the jewel market, they passed Raina, who lived down the hall from him and Steve and was almost always at the market, shopping and gossiping. There was Christine Everheart in the clothing section, one of the local newscasters. Ian Quinn chatted with some of the other town enforcers at one of the security posts; Sam gave him a polite and gratingly submissive nod as he passed. He also gave a polite nod to Christian Ward, the town’s mayor and representative to the nation’s council as he walked toward Town Hall. Sam was careful not to glance back at Sharon; she had to follow him, and he had to trust that she wouldn’t try to escape or wander off.

The crowd thinned when they reached the grocers’ shops, and Sam paused at the entrance to the pavilion. It was smaller than the ones they’d come through. Quieter, too. He gave Sharon the barest of glances as she stared, wide-eyed. He couldn’t blame her; there were five other humans shopping there, all of them better dressed than she was. Sam forced himself to walk forward, forced himself, too, to meet the other vampires’ eyes. Humans were status symbols; dressing them in richer clothes and giving them jewelry to wear was a sign of wealth that he and Steve didn’t have. Nonetheless, he wasn’t ashamed of his human, nor of how he and Steve treated her.

He wondered if he should believe that. Sharon’s clothes were symbol compared to the other humans, her collar plain and no jewelry whatsoever. The other humans all had jewelry in addition to their collars; one of them had a collar that seemed to be jewels and nothing else.

And of course they would. Their owners could afford it.

He and Steve couldn’t afford to do that with Sharon. They’d have to sit her down and explain that. They’d have to hope she didn’t care about status. If she did, he wasn’t sure what they would do, if they would do anything.

It was yet another problem they hadn’t anticipated.

He went to one of the four outdoor stalls and looked over the selection of vegetables. He’d been reading up on recipes for the sorts of meals Sharon would need, but now that he stood there, it seemed like an overwhelming prospect for someone who hadn’t eaten solid food in over fifty years.

“May I help you?”

He glanced up at the woman behind the stall, red hair falling in curls to her shoulders and friendly green eyes. He smiled. “I’m Sam, and this is my human, Sharon.” He glanced at Sharon, and she gave a nod to the woman. “She’s the first human my partner and I have had, and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how this actually works.”

The woman’s lips stretched into a smile. “Good thing you’ve got me here, then.” She turned her smile to Sharon, sizing her up, and then turned back to Sam. “Which cookbook are you working from?”

“ _Food for the Feeder._ ”

Natasha nodded. “It’s not bad for the basics. It’ll keep her alive and keep her blood count up, but humans can’t live on that much meat and not much of anything else. May I?” She tilted her head to Sharon, and at Sam’s nod, turned to the human. “Can you drink milk?”

Sharon nodded.

“Allergic to any food?”

Sharon frowned as she thought. “We got something called lobster once when there were leftovers one year. Some sort of holiday, I think. A lot of us got sick after, I think because it was old, but Maria never let us have any more of it after that.”

“Maria?” the woman asked.

Sharon nodded appreciatively. “She looked after us in the barracks.”

The woman offered her a wan grin. “She sounds very nice.” She turned back to Sam. “In light of that, you’ll likely want to avoid the seafood for now, and maybe try some in small - very small - samples later on. As for the rest, vegetables are an absolute must, and fruit, too. Steamed broccoli is an excellent source for vitamin C...”

* * *

Sharon shifted under the weight of the bags as she walked down the hall. Was it longer than it had been before? She gritted her teeth. Sam, of course, had no bags to carry; that was what humans were for. Never mind that the bags would be nothing to his vampire strength. Rules were rules.

The door opened before Sam could knock, and Steve stepped aside for her. As soon as the door was closed, both Sam and Steve removed the bags from her hands so fast that she stood dumbfounded, her fingers clutching air instead of bags.

“How was the market?” Steve asked pleasantly, for all the world as if he and Sam hadn’t just turned into streaks she could barely see.

“Fine,” Sam said. “Met one of the grocers, Natasha. Said she’d look after Sharon and answer any questions she might have.” He gave Steve a look; Sharon tried not to react. Was the Natasha at the market the same one Maria had wanted her to talk to? She hadn’t had the chance to ask with Sam there. “Which is going to be a relief,” Sam continued. “I hadn’t even seen some of those foods when I was alive.”

Sharon made a face at him and did her best to set aside thoughts about Natasha and Maria. She couldn’t do anything about it until she went back to the market anyway. She wanted to know, though. Was that the Natasha Maria had meant for her to meet? What was so important about meeting Natasha in the first place? “I liked it.”

Steve smiled at her, and Sharon grinned back uncomfortably and forced herself to think about the present moment. She dragged her mind out of the market and back into the apartment. She’d known them less than two days - nights - and had already realized that she was fortunate to have them as owners. Not all vampires treated humans so well. But some small part of her wished they wouldn’t treat her as kindly as they did. They acted so human sometimes, it confused her. She was supposed to despise them, but they were so... nice. She knew better than to trust them; it would be easier if they were more like the monsters she knew they were. 

Steve looked almost smug for a moment. “That’s the end of things you like, then.”

Okay. Apparently, she’d been wrong. They’d only pretended to be nice. It had been a ruse for whatever Steve was planning now. She glanced at the door. Could she run if she had to?

At seeing her grin fall, Steve hurried to finish. “For the day. Because I chose some books for you to read. I thought we could go ahead and start your lessons.”

Her shoulders relaxed. She’d almost forgotten about the reading lessons. “Where do you want to start?”

He stepped closer. “Here.” Her heart sped up as he reached for her neck, and he gave her an odd look as he brushed her hair aside and removed the collar. He turned away to set the collar by the door, and she hastily took a step back from him.

Now Sam was giving her an odd look, damn it.

Her heart hammered. She’d thought he was going to bite her. Obviously. She’d been wrong. How could she be wrong about them? They were _vampires._ Why didn’t they act like it?

“Words, huh?” she said, her tone far too bright. She kicked herself and hoped they didn’t notice.

Sam and Steve looked at each other. 

Damn it. 

“Why don’t you help me put the groceries away,” Sam suggested, “and then Steve can work with you.”

* * *

Sharon didn’t relax when she saw Natasha smile at her from across the courtyard. She was too aware of the vampires behind her, around her, the ones whose eyes had lingered on her collar for too long. She wondered if this was how the blood bags back home had felt, with the constant uneasy feeling that she could be attacked at any moment.

She went straight to Natasha’s stall and stopped squarely in front of the tomatoes. “Hi,” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” Natasha greeted, bemused. “Have a fun trip here?”

Sharon shook her head. “But I’m here, so...” She took out the list Steve had written, studied it for several seconds, and then handed it to Natasha. After days of lessons, she could make out most of the letters, but putting them together to form words was still laborious.

Natasha read over the list and started gathering the ingredients. “You liked the broccoli?”

Sharon nodded. “The book said to steam it and add butter and salt. It was delicious. And the lettuce and tomatoes make the burgers taste great.”

The redhead grinned. “Good. Just remember to eat more than meat. Most vampires forget to pay attention to such things, but you humans need rounded diets.” Natasha eyed her as she put some lettuce into a bag. “Did you not get those at... wherever you were raised?”

Sharon nudged the two ripest tomatoes toward the bag; she might not be able to read, but she knew what good vegetables and fruit looked like. “Camp Lehigh?” She shook her head. “I mean, we got enough to stay alive. Dead humans can’t tend the crops, but nothing like hamburgers. It was mostly a lot of mush.” It hadn’t been wise to eat a lot, either. Then the bleeding started, and the women who bled were moved to the pens.

“Natasha!” a voice called from inside the shop. Sharon peered over Natasha’s shoulder in search of the speaker but saw only darkness.

Natasha sighed. “Darcy, you know that’s not the proper way to address me. People are going to say I spoil you.”

“Right. Mistress. Mistress Natasha. I think there’s something you need to hear about. As in _now._ ”

The vampire took another breath, then looked at Sharon. “My apologies. I haven’t had Darcy for long and haven’t been as strict with her as I ought to be. Here. Take some potatoes to make up for it. On the house. The starch is good for you.”

Sharon smiled awkwardly, uncomfortable with the thought that Natasha might be stricter with Darcy for speaking out of place in front of Sharon, and handed over the money Steve had given her. 

Natasha counted it out and returned some in an eyeblink. “Until next time, Sharon.”

She nodded and headed back home. She hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Natasha about Maria. It would happen in time. She’d make sure of it.

She kept her eyes down to avoid eye contact with vampires as she walked back to the apartment, but as she walked, she realized that none of the vampires seemed to notice her at all. The ones who remained outside gathered around radios and laughed and joked.

When she got to the apartment, she made sure Steve and Sam were still at work before turning the volume on the radio up. There was no way to turn the radio off, but she could control the volume. It was kind of nice to have control over something. She listened as she put the groceries away. She’d never heard anything like it on the radio before; usually, the radio carried news, featured interviews with political figures, and played music. Lots and lots of music, often in German. Whatever it played now sounded like people acting something out, and the audio was old enough to sound scratchy. They spoke in English, though, and she followed along easily enough. Unlike the German broadcasts. She couldn’t understand most of those.

Done with the groceries, she started on her other chores. She wondered if Betty Carver was a real person; she knew Herr Schmidt was, though most people she knew called him the Skull. She recognized some of the other names, too. Brandt was one of Schmidt’s ministers. Kruger was one of his right-hand men.

She scrubbed the counter and listened as Betty Carver ruined a mission by the Commandos and accidentally killed Hutter, one of Schmidt’s close friends. Schmidt swore revenge, and one of the Commandos (Dugan? It was hard to keep them straight) noted that for all of Betty’s incompetence, at least they had one less vamp to deal with. One of the other Commandos argued that Schmidt would now be relentless in his pursuit of them.

“And that’s not the last of our radio specials today, folks,” a voice cut in. “We’ll be playing the old Betty Carver radio shows all day to celebrate the passing of Peggy Carter, the human woman who fought Herr Schmidt-”

The words slowly clicked into place, and Sharon didn’t hear the rest.

* * *

Sam kept it together until he closed the door behind him, then groaned and pressed his back to the door. Was it just him, or had the dock work gotten even worse lately? He knew he’d asked for more hours to help Steve keep Sharon, but it felt like the managers were giving him more of the drudge work. He wanted a hot shower and a backrub.

He grunted as he shoved himself forward. It took less than a second to realize that something wasn’t right. He and Steve kept the radio as quiet as they could. Sharon must have turned it up. In the days he’d known her, he hadn’t noticed that she liked the radio anymore than he and Steve did. He frowned and listened, trying to figure out why she’s been listening. Boredom from cleaning alone? Maybe he and Steve could get something to help. He had a record player no one was supposed to know about...

Oh, no. He knew this program. Steve had ranted about the program for decades, and as a result, Sam could barely stand hearing it anymore. Every time it came on, he knew Steve would talk for hours about Peggy and how she hadn’t been like that at all.

He heard Sharon’s steady heartbeat underneath the 40s-era music.

Sam walked to the kitchen and saw Sharon on the floor, curled up against the cabinets, her eyes wide and red and shell-shocked. He was at her side in an instant. She didn’t so much as twitch, and Sam held his hands inches over her shoulders, then shifted to hold them inches away from her knees, then her head. He knew he could check something, but he wasn’t sure how. The books on taking care of humans said to feed them, keep them clothed, and give them a place to stay. Sharon had eaten, was wearing clothes, and she was in the apartment.

Had they broken her?

Oh, crap. They’d broken the first human they’d ever had. They’d never be trusted with another. And after Steve had made the promise to Peggy-

Sam lifted his head as he listened to the program. “Oh,” he murmured. Sharon was Peggy’s niece. He couldn’t think of anything more to say. “Oh,” he said again. 

He had a vague memory of his mother pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He took a tentative breath and pressed his hand to Sharon’s forehead. She made a sound in her throat, but nothing else changed. He withdrew his hands and tried to remember what else his mother had done. He wished he could remember his humanity better; it was little more than a half-remembered dream most days.

After several minutes, he got up and turned down the radio. He sat beside Sharon. “Is that better?”

She didn’t respond, and he leaned forward to look at her face. 

“No?” He leaned back and sighed. “Okay. That’s okay.”

After several more minutes, he draped an arm over Sharon’s shoulder. She drew a ragged breath and whimpered. It took him a minute to realize she was trying not to cry, and he instinctively wrapped his other arm around her as well.

* * *

By the time Steve got home from the gallery, Sam had cajoled Sharon into his lap and had his arms around her. Steve stood in the kitchen doorway and looked down at them both. His shoulders were heavy, and every crackle of the radio cut like a knife. As quiet as it was, he could hear each intonation clearly. He looked toward the front door, calculating the odds that they would be raided tonight, and then went to Sharon’s unused room. He covered the radio with as much of the bedding as he could and went back to the kitchen.

“You okay?” Sam asked quietly.

Steve shook his head. “No. She deserved better than to be remembered like this.” He stepped forward and carefully picked Sharon up. “How long as she been like this?”

“I got home about an hour ago. At least that long.”

Steve nodded, then hesitated. He held her in his arms as if she were made of gossamer. Her face was red, her fists clenched. He knew she had eaten. She had a place to stay. She was wearing clothes. He could only think of one thing left to try. “It’s okay to let her sleep in her clothes, right? I don’t want to-”

Sam snorted. “You’re not old enough to forget that, Steve. She should be fine, yeah.”

He swallowed and nodded again before carrying Sharon to her room.

* * *

Sam got to his feet and got ready for bed. By the time Steve returned, carrying Sharon’s collar, Sam was under the covers, and Steve’s favorite book was on Steve’s pillow. Steve’s expression softened as he saw it, though his grip on Sharon’s collar was tight enough that the collar threatened to bend.

Sam nodded to it. “We can’t afford another one yet.”

Steve set the collar on the counter, his movements slow and cautious.

They were in bed for almost twenty minutes when Steve heard it. “What is that?” he asked.

Sam made a face at him. “She’s crying, man.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he made a strangled noise in his throat. “Crying.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Humans do it when they’re sad. I know you read that chapter in the book. In multiple books, actually.”

“Yeah, but-” Steve swallowed thickly. “How- It isn’t right to just- to just let her cry, right? We should- The book said to wait it out, but...” He looked toward Sharon’s bedroom. “Do you think food would help?”

Sam looked sideways at him. Steve was an odd one. He’d known that since Steve had first attacked him in a blood-lust. Even given that Steve was the one who had turned him in one of the most violent events of Sam’s life, he was still taken aback by how kind Steve could be. Not just dutiful, but genuinely compassionate. When he’d realized he’d hurt Sam that night, he’d been horrified and had spent every night since trying to take care of Sam as best he could. “Not being alone might help,” he suggested. “You didn’t leave me alone after.” Steve hung his head, and Sam leaned over and patted his hand. “Hey. Not blaming you. You weren’t in control at first, and once you were... I’m alive now because of you. Just saying that maybe not being alone would help her.”

Steve took a breath and nodded. Sam listened as Steve, quieter than a ghost, moved to Sharon’s door. He heard her intake of breath, the way her heartbeat sped up. He heard Steve’s faint words, the rustling of sheets and cloth as he picked her up.

He moved to the side of the bed as Steve came back into the main room. He met Steve’s eyes as he set Sharon in the bed; they could both hear her heartbeat hammering, see the tenseness in her shoulders.

Sam had a good guess what was bothering her. He’d been born after the vampires had taken over. He reached over and pushed some of her hair across her neck. “No feeding unless you say,” he suggested. “Promise.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Even in the darkness, he could see that her eyes were red and wet. 

He held up his hands. “Stake me if I lie.”

She sniffed. “Do you even have a stake?”

He grinned. “We’ll give you some money for one at the market so you can keep us in line.” He settled back against the pillows. “And we’ll mind ourselves anyway. I’ve heard humans can be resourceful.” He grinned again and turned onto his side, facing away from her. He was pleased to note that her heartbeat was steadier, if only a little.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hoped Steve got her calmed down soon; the sun was due up any second now, and Sam was exhausted.

* * *

Steve stood beside the bed, trying to keep enough distance between the two of them that Sharon wouldn’t feel intimidated. “You’re safe, Sharon. I promised Peggy that I would look after you, and I will. I swear I will.”

She drew a breath and hung her head. 

After a moment, he pulled a blanket around her shoulders. She continued to hold her breath, her face turning red and her fingers curled into fists. “Why are you doing that?” he asked, getting worried again.

She let loose the breath she’d been holding and panted. “It helps not to cry.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to inhale. He rubbed his face. “Sharon. Why- Do you want to cry?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. Even as she did, her eyes watered anew.

“Does it hurt you not to cry?”

Sharon glared at him, and for a moment, he saw her as he first had. Angry and haughty and stubborn despite the fact that she was the weakest one in the room. 

He fought the urge to grin, but his lips still twitched. 

“I’m not weak!” she snapped.

He sighed. “Sharon. You’re the only one here who can cry for Peggy.” Her expression fell. “Sam and I can’t cry anymore. I think she deserves it, having someone care enough to cry.” He hadn’t been able to cry for anything he’d lost since he’d become a vampire, no matter how much he felt like it. Sometimes he wished he’d never been turned.

“The way they talk about her on the radio...”

Steve shook his head. “She was nothing like Betty Carver.” She stared at him, and it took him a moment to realize how sharp his tone had been. He took care to make his tone gentle. “I’ll tell you about her in tomorrow, okay? Can I...” He pointed at his side of the bed. She hesitated, then scooted toward Sam, and Steve slid under the sheets and turned off the light. “Thanks.” He could still hear the radio from beneath its covers, but it was almost quiet enough that the words were muffled. “Didn’t you know Peggy? She was your aunt.”

Sharon hugged the blanket tighter around her. “Not since I was little.”

Silence fell, and Steve’s eyelids were getting heavier. He could already feel Sam’s stillness that indicated he’d fallen asleep. “Relax, Sharon. Sam’s right. We won’t hurt you. And we won’t feed from you unless you let us. I swear.”

“You said she asked you to take care of me.” Sharon’s voice was small in the darkness.

“Yes.”

“Did that- Did that have something to do with why she died?”

Steve’s gut clenched. He didn’t want to think about it, even though he’d known at the time. Peggy hadn’t had long; he was the only one who visited anymore. Humans in the feeding camps never died from old age, and Peggy was older than most. And without him visiting... would they have decided she was expendable?

“She knew she was getting older,” he said at last. “I think she just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sharon didn’t respond, and as he drifted off to sleep, it seemed to take her forever to curl into a ball beside him, her back to Sam’s. “I miss her,” she whispered.

“Me, too.” He reached over. His hand barely covered hers before he fell asleep.


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sharon have their first surprise inspection; Sharon decides it's time to take a risk.

Heat woke her. It didn’t make sense, she thought sleepily. She only slept curled up when it was cold, but now she was wrapped in a thick blanket and couldn’t move. What was Maria doing? When it was this hot, Maria made it a point to have the windows opened for air. Maria would never let the barracks get this hot with people inside, unless- unless something had happened to Maria.

She startled as she remembered. She wasn’t in the barracks anymore. She was in Steve and Sam’s apartment. Maria wasn’t here. Nothing bad had happened to her; the barracks were safe.

She wondered if Maria would ever have guessed Sharon’s current predicament. Sam and Steve were curled up around her, pinning her under the blanket. They breathed so slowly she could barely feel Sam’s breath on her shoulder.

She squirmed. She was too hot for sleep, and she didn’t want to stay awake. She could hear the faint sound of the radio show from the radio in the corner, and though she couldn’t understand the murmur of words, the old-timey music told her they were still playing the Betty Carver show. She closed her eyes and willed such thoughts away, but she only succeeding in wondering if radio shows existed about her parents, too. She thought back to when she was young enough that Peggy could pick her up, the way humans and treated Peggy with such respect. They had never treated to Sharon’s parents like that.

No one had spoken about her parents at the barracks, either. No one except Maria, but Maria had never known them, though she talked about Peggy as if she had met her. No, Sharon thought, her parents had meant nothing to anyone but herself. Peggy had meant something, though, something she didn’t yet understand. And the humans at the camp would never have respected Betty Carver.

She huffed and tried to push Steve off of her. His weight was half on top of her, and none of it budged. What time was it? Damn, it was hot. She tried to shift again. This time, she pushed harder against Steve. If she could just get a foot free and some air circulating...

Steve grunted, and Sharon froze, her knee against his leg. Steve’s eyes blinked open; she knew the moment he registered her quickened heartbeat by how fast his eyes settled on her. He frowned. “You okay?”

She licked her lips. “Hot,” she whispered. 

He didn’t seem to understand. His eyes roved over her, and it finally seemed to sink in. He backed up so fast he fell off the side of the bed.

“Whas goin’ on?” Sam muttered.

“I was hot,” Sharon told him.

“‘Kay.” Sam’s eyes closed; in seconds, he was asleep again, his forehead tucked against the back of her neck.

Steve was already back on his feet and tugging her blanket off. “Sorry. I guess it’s been so long since someone with body heat was around that we- Sorry.”

She sighed in relief as cool air brushed her skin. “Thanks.”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed as if afraid to move any closer. “Sorry about the- Sorry.”

Sharon shook her head. “It’s fine. Not like you were ripping me into pieces or anything. I was just hot and couldn’t sleep.”

His eyes widened, though after a moment he blinked rapidly. He rubbed his eyes. “Do you really think we’d do that?”

She shrugged. “You’re vampires.”

“We would never,” he said vehemently. “We would never hurt you.”

“I’m not saying you’d mean to,” Sharon insisted. She considered, then amended her answer. “I don’t _think_ you’d mean to.”

Steve’s features darkened. The effect was ruined by a yawn that threatened to crack his jaw. “I gave Peggy my word,” he said. “So long as you’re alive, I’ll protect you.”

Sharon still had her doubts; she’d never known a vampire’s word to be good for anything. “What was she like? Really, I mean.”

On her other side, Sam groaned. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Talk about it tonight.”

Steve’s eyes were already on the verge of drifting shut, and Sharon sighed. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

“Morning,” Steve corrected automatically. Before she could respond, he tilted sideways, already asleep.

* * *

Vampires, she found, did not handle a lack of sleep well. Sam woke at his normal time, but his movements were groggy and clumsy. Sharon watched him as she ate her oatmeal, wrinkling her nose when she saw he’d mismatched his buttons. 

She sighed and pointed to his shirt. She hesitated, then pointed to her neck.

He fumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt, his undershirt a glaring white underneath. She absently wondered if she’d used too much bleach in the last batch. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked.

She shrugged and tried to ignore the way her gut clenched. She didn’t even understand why the thought of him feeding from her made her feel ill. She’d known that this was part of being bought. The food was better here than it ever had been at home. The beds were betters, too. But something about having vampires - no matter how kind they were - buy her and then use her made her feel dirtier than she had when she’d been a dirt mite. “What I’m here for,” she said lightly. 

“That’s not what I asked.” He stared down at his buttons in confusion and tried to match them to the right holes. 

“You look like you need it,” she tried instead.

“Still not what I asked.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “If you wait for complete and utter obedience or submission, then you’ll die of starvation and I’ll have to go back to the camp,” she said quietly. “So it’s the best you’ll get.”

His brown eyes met hers, and for the first time, she noticed how much darker they were than her own. It didn’t take long to start squirming under his scrutiny, and in the end, she inched closer and buttoned his shirt for him. “You just reminded me of my grandfather,” he said.

She frowned. “Is that a good thing?”

“Sure is. Gramps was a good guy.” He moved behind her and gently pushed her hair from her neck as she tilted her head to the side. “I won’t take much.”

He was true to his word, for what it was worth. He was done in seconds, his tongue briefly running over the wounds before he pulled away. Already, the familiar sparkle in his eyes was gaining strength, and he seemed more himself as he ducked down to meet her eyes. “Gramps was a tough old bastard. Stood up for my Gran when some white boys were messing with her. They beat the crap out of him for it, too. Came back later and beat him again. Never broke him, though. Kept fighting even when all he could do to show they hadn’t beat him for good was hold his head up high. I always liked that about him. Admired him for it.”

He grinned and tucked in his shirt. “And before you think we expect you to be okay with all this? We’re not. Peggy asked Steve for a favor, and we’re doing our best to follow through. If there’s more we have to do, tell us.”

She frowned, watching as he plucked at his collar. “Why do you care so much? Did you know Aunt Peggy?”

“Nope. Didn’t need to, though. Steve liked her. Says something.”

Her frown only deepened.

Sam tied his shoelaces, his fingers deft. “And sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to crowd you. Been a long time since... well. Been a long time.”

She shrugged. “Other than things being so hot, it was fine.”

He grinned. “Really? You thought it was hot?”

Sharon stretched her arms behind her back. “It was! I was under the blanket, and you two were on top of me, and it was really, really hot.”

His grin widened, though he didn’t say what he thought was so funny. His feet practically glided as he headed to the door, tossing his hat into the air and catching it on his head. “Steve needs to be up in an hour. He might be more tired than I was, but make sure he gets up to go to work, all right?”

She nodded. “Have a good night at work.”

He winked at her and was gone. 

She stood in the small apartment, taking in the tasks that had gone undone the night before. She knew from experience that Steve would sleep like the dead. She looked at the clock to check the time, then set about doing her chores.

She was only halfway done when the telephone rang loudly enough that Steve’s head popped up. She waved her hand to tell him to keep sleeping and picked up the phone. “Rogers residence.” The answer was terse. She was given no time to reply before the line went dead. She looked at Steve and swallowed. “Some agents are coming by later today and want to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

Steve immediately attempted to get out of bed. Like Sam, his movements were slow and uncoordinated. He nearly fell to the floor, then sat on the edge of the bed with a grunt.

She sighed and sat beside him, pulling her hair back. “It helped Sam.”

He rubbed his face. “‘m fine,” he muttered. “Just need a shower.”

She didn’t disagree, but she knew a shower hadn’t helped Sam at all. After he stumbled toward the bathroom, she stripped the sheets off the bed, got the sheets from Sam’s bed, then hers, and put them all in the wash together. She’d swept most of the living room before Steve reemerged in a T-shirt and khakis, still groggy. “Just needed a shower, huh?” she muttered. He glared at her, and she blinked and shrugged her shoulders as if she hadn’t said anything.

She watched him in her peripheral vision as he tied his shoelaces, his fingers slowing to the point that she wondered if he was still awake. If he was like this when the agents came, there was no telling what would happen to her. “Steve. Really.”

He startled, blinked at her, then gave a brief nod. “Okay. Just a little.” He stood and stumbled again as he stepped toward her.

“But,” she said as an idea occurred to her, “after, you have to tell me about Peggy. The real one.”

He nodded, brushing her hair off her neck. He hesitated, then bit down. He cleaned the wound as Sam had and shoved her hair over the wound. He swallowed thickly. “Your collar,” he said slowly. His steps were measured as he retrieved it from the counter and then held it out to her. “I’m sorry.”

She propped the broom against her shoulder so she could pull her hair up and put the collar on. “Sorry for what?”

“The collar. The way the law says we have to treat you like a thing.”

She frowned at him. It took her a couple seconds to get the collar on without snagging her hair. No one had cut it since before Steve had declared his intention to buy her. She’d either have to cut it or figure out a way to keep it out of her face soon. They’d told her at the camp that her owners would style her hair whatever way they wanted, but Steve and Sam had never mentioned it. “You two are... not what I expected,” she said at last. 

He shrugged and took a step backward, as if being close to her bothered him. “We can remember a time when people weren’t treated like things.”

“Aunt Peggy’s time,” Sharon said with a slow nod. “Maria used to tell us stories when we thought the vamps wouldn’t hear.”

“It’s what Peggy dedicated her life to.” He looked at her curiously for a moment, then glanced at her chore list. “I’ll help with your chores while I tell you about her, how about?”

* * *

Steve had only known Peggy for a matter of months before they had been separated. World War II - he didn’t say what happened to the first world war - was going badly enough that the United States military had lowered the bar for recruitment that even Steve qualified. He had tried to enlist before, lying about his age and health, and he had jumped at the chance to serve. Peggy, it turned out, was one of his training instructors. It hadn’t taken long for them to become friends, bonded by experiences of being thought incapable and their dedication to succeed nonetheless. Not soon after that, Peggy had shipped out on a mission, and he hadn’t seen her again until the War had been lost and she’d been put in a feeding camp. He went quiet after that, his mind elsewhere.

It was the most she’d ever heard him talk about himself. Part of her was saddened that he had stopped. Hearing him talk about himself and Peggy made him seem much more... human. She could almost believe that he wouldn’t hurt her.

Not that she could trust him. She knew better.

“So... not like Betty Carver?”

He smiled faintly. “No, not at all like Betty Carver.” He grew quiet again, long enough that she started to squirm. His eyes were focused sharply on her in an instant. “Let’s get you lunch, and then we’ll read, okay?”

* * *

She managed to read almost a whole page before she realized Steve was no longer paying attention. She paused, not minding the respite as she struggled to piece the letters together.

He must have noticed her silence; he turned to her and forced a smile. “Let’s take a break. Never know when they’ll show up.” He paused. “Don’t mention Peggy was your aunt. I should have said that sooner, but it’s important that they don’t know that you were related to her.”

His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “Because they don’t like Aunt Peggy,” she whispered in understanding. 

Steve nodded. “They’ll already be watching more closely because of how often I visited her. We have to convince them we never cared about her so they leave us alone.”

She looked at him curiously. What was Steve afraid the inspectors would find? Was he so concerned that the inspectors would dig up their connection to Peggy, or was there something else? Steve seemed too worried for this to just be about a lowly human such as herself. And no one had seemed to care that he’d visited Peggy so much when she was alive... “What else are we hiding?”

He studied her for several minutes, and then got to his feet. “Nothing.”

She glared at him. “If you’re going to lie, you need to be better at it.”

He looked down at her ruefully and offered her a hand up. “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, let’s work on cover stories. Just in case.”

* * *

The hours dragged by. Steve read for a while, then switched between a variety of books before finally going to the roof. Sharon wasn’t sure what he did after that; she was busy scrubbing the counter for the fourth time that night. She’d already cleaned everything else again, from scouring the tub to dusting the bookcase and sweeping.

By the time the knock came, she heaved a sigh of relief and hid the broom in the pantry. By the time she turned around, Steve was sitting in one of the mismatched chairs by the radio, engrossed in a book.

She rolled her eyes at the pretense of it all, then remembered that she had more of a part to play than that of the maid. She pasted on a smile and opened the door. “Hello. May I help you?”

“Fortunately, we’re not with human control,” one of the men answered. “If we were, I’d have to dock you points for not saying, ‘Hello, welcome to my master’s house. What may I do for you on his behalf?'” The man smiled. His red hair tinged was with gray. His suit looked even nicer than the one Steve wore. “As it is, we’ll let it slide. May we?” He indicated himself and his companion with a hand. The other man was younger, with dark hair and a hint of stubble on his chin. He black shirt didn’t hide that he had more muscle than the other man.

Sharon eyed the collar around the younger man’s neck and hurriedly moved to the side, holding the door open wide for them to walk through. She dropped into a curtsy as Steve moved to greet the visitors. 

“Mr. Rogers, I presume. I’m Alexander Pierce, and this is my associate, Brock Rumlow. I was hoping I could have a word.” He glanced at Sharon and smiled indulgently. “Away from prying ears, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Steve said, his words just as easy as Pierce’s smile. “The view from the roof is nice, if you would like to see it.”

“Certainly.”

Sharon glanced at Rumlow as Steve and Pierce disappeared. 

Once they were gone, Rumlow met her eye with amusement. “You can act normal, you know. I’m human, too.”

She straightened with a smile. “Good. Do you know, you’re the first other human I’ve met in ages? Are you his human? Are you really a vampire associate?” She caught herself before she could ask any more questions she wasn’t supposed to. She wasn’t certain what was and what wasn’t appropriate with another human who was owned by a vampire. Just because she finally got to another human again didn’t mean she could get carried away. She took a breath. “Do you want coffee?”

He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Coffee sounds great.”

* * *

Despite how dawn was only three hours away, heat clung to the rooftop like tar. It wasn’t hot enough to prevent the chill at the back of Steve’s neck. Pierce stood beside him as they looked out over the remains of Brooklyn, most of it cleared away already as the Skull tried to remove signs of any civilization before his own. Steve could remember when the buildings had outnumbered the humans within them. He could still remember the streets in which the neighborhood kids had played stickball and the alleys in which he’d been beaten up.

“Makes you miss the skyscrapers, doesn’t it?” Pierce asked.

Steve tore his thoughts away from the past. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. “Don’t tell me they’ve _all_ been torn down.” 

“It’s safer underground, if you can afford it,” Pierce responded, almost as if chastising Steve for not thinking of that himself. Steve’s fingers clenched nervously in his pocket. Had he already done something wrong? “Which begs the question of why you bought a human. They’re expensive creatures, and I noticed you don’t seem- I hope you don’t mind my saying - but you don’t seem particularly wealthy.”

Steve fought the urge to shrug and instead inclined his head. “I’m not. But I live with another vampire; he has a full-time job that doesn’t allow for much flexibility. It was difficult for him to go to the feeding camps regularly, and I’m an artist. I had concerns about my ability to pay the camp fees. So we saved up until we could adopt one. In the end, it was a matter of convenience.”

Pierce grinned, and Steve dug his nails into his palms. “Adopt.”

Shit. Adopt. It painted them as liberal human-lovers. Not the sort of people the Skull would think kindly of. “Sam Wilson, the other vampire here, was a slave before he was turned. I try to be sensitive of that, seeing as how he is one of our kind and pays for half of everything here.”

He was met with a nod, but he didn’t dare relax. 

“And the human is cheaper?”

“In the long run,” Steve said. “She cooks and cleans, is there when I need to feed. I’ve been able to use the extra time to paint more. I may have enough for an exhibit soon. If everything goes well, the paintings will more than cover the cost of keeping a human.”

“I’d like to see those paintings some time.” Pierce took a deep breath of night air. “I like to think I can appreciate art. But then, I’ve noticed everyone thinks that.” He chuckled, stopping only when Steve quietly joined in. “But why this one? She was a daywalker. Filthy, from what I’ve heard. Not the sort of creature a man of culture and refinement such as yourself would choose. She cleans up nice, I admit, but how did you even come to know her name? You _did_ ask for her by name, didn’t you? That’s what the guards said.”

Steve cursed himself for his stupidity that night. He could see now that he should have taken more time, planted seeds. He’d been so blinded in keeping his promise to Peggy that he hadn’t thought it through. “Peggy Carter,” he said. “I used to feed from her often. Thought it was funny, feeding from someone who fought vampires for so much of her life. But she was getting old the last time I saw her. Too old to be any fun.” Peggy, please forgive him. “I got her talking about people she was fond of. She said she didn’t have any family left, but before they put her in the feeding pens, there was a kid she was fond of. Humans and children, I suppose.” He rolled his eyes as if the idea of caring for children was ridiculous and wondered if there was a vampire hell. He had no doubt he’d end up there, if so. “I got her to tell me the name and then took the human to feed from.” He shrugged. “My own joke, I guess.”

“You have a wry sense of humor, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m too old to lose it now.”

* * *

Rumlow sat on one of the stools in the kitchen as Sharon poured them both coffee. She took the seat beside him. “Do you prefer coffee or tea?” Rumlow asked before she got the chance to ask a question of her own.

“Whatever they give me.”

He smirked. “Honestly. You don’t have to be the obedient little human with me. Which do you prefer?”

She took a long sip of her coffee. “Both. Seriously. Back at the barracks, everything tasted like it was made with rocks and dirt. Everything tastes better here. Tea is delicious- I haven’t had any that I haven’t liked yet. Coffee helps first thing at night, but I can’t drink it right before morning.”

“Still not used to staying up all night, huh?” He leaned back in his chair. “I empathize. I used to be a guard at the camps before they partnered me up with Pierce.”

What little goodwill she had toward him disappeared. She knew what human guards who turned on their own kind were like. There were times when they were more savage than the vampires, and they betrayed humans on the off chance that they might one day be turned into vampires themselves. She had thought that, like her, he had no choice in his station; but guards had to make the choice. Realizing her expression had turned sour, she quickly poured some cream into her coffee.

“He’s a good guy, for a vamp,” Rumlow continued, seemingly oblivious. “So you knew Peggy Carter? That’s cool.”

Sharon jumped. “What?” How did he know about Aunt Peggy?

He grinned and spread his arms in front of him in a placating gesture. “You must have, right? Because she knew you. Rogers went straight from talking to her to telling the guards he wanted to buy you.”

She stared at him as she forced herself to relax. Her heart hammered. What would Maria do? She and Steve had come up with a plan of sorts, but Rumlow had taken her by surprise. Should she jump into the cover story already? Or address how quickly Steve had decided to buy her?

Pretend not to know, she thought. Maria would pretend not to know and then, if caught, pretend to remember.

She met Rumlow’s gaze with her own and took a sip of her coffee. “I didn’t know that.”

“But you knew her? I always liked her. Ballsy broad, you know?”

Sharon swallowed her coffee. Something wasn’t right. Something about this, about his questions, worried her. He wanted to hear about Peggy, and Sharon couldn’t tell him. _Wouldn’t_ tell him. Steve had said to pretend that she had only known Peggy as Betty. Sharon set her coffee on the counter. She trusted Steve far more than she trusted Rumlow. There was something wrong with the world when she trusted a vamp over a human. But then, there’d been something wrong with the world for a long time, hadn’t there.

“I barely remember her,” Sharon said honestly. “I think she used to play with me when I was still small enough to need someone to watch me while the adults worked, but I never knew she was Betty Carver.” She shrugged. “I’m not even sure I could even tell you what she looked like, except for what they say on the radio.”

God, she hoped Peggy could forgive her for saying these things. She’d never forget how Peggy’s dark brown eyes sparkled as long as she lived.

Rumlow smiled and shrugged. “Shame. I’d have liked to hear more about her.”

Sharon mimicked his shrug. “Sorry I can’t tell you more. I was too young to work in the fields back then. Too young for a lot of stuff, I guess.”

He nodded as if it didn’t matter and asked what she did all night, and she felt more comfortable with the new line of questioning, answering everything honestly except where she slept. The minute description of cleaning different objects kept them busy until Steve and Pierce returned from upstairs, and Sharon quickly took her place at the door.

Pierce glanced at her, then held his hand out to Steve. “I’m sorry about the inconvenience, but you know how things are. Especially with rebels like Carter. It’s our duty to protect the Empire.”

Steve gripped Pierce’s hand briefly before letting go. “Of course. I look forward to showing you some of my art in the future.”

“Not as much as I look forward to seeing it.” Sharon pulled the door open as soon as Pierce turned toward it; he glanced at her and paused in the doorway. “Take good care of him, human. He’s as good a vamp as ever there was.” He left, Rumlow giving her another grin as he followed in Pierce’s wake. If he weren’t loyal to the vamps, she thought darkly, he might have been handsome.

She forced herself not to slam the door, slowly pushing the locks back into place. Done, she sighed and turned to Steve. “Rumlow asked questions about Peggy.” She told him the conversation as best she could, noting the way the lines in his face deepened.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Is it okay if I hold you?” he asked.

She frowned in confusion. After a moment, she lifted her chin.

He shook his head. “Still full from earlier.” He stepped forward and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. “This.”

She bit her lip. Oh. “I don’t mind. All my work is done.” She paused as Steve held her a little tighter. “Why the- the holding?”

“Warmth,” he said simply. After a moment, he continued. “We don’t generate our own very much. So it’s nice to feel human sometimes, and warmth helps.”

“You don’t do it when you feed,” she pointed out.

“It’s considered rude.”

Sharon snorted. “Yeah, because biting someone and sucking blood out of them is _so_ polite.”

“Ruder than that,” Steve muttered against the top of her head. He was decent enough to sound embarrassed.

She rolled her eyes.

When Sam finally arrived home, he stopped and stared at them. They stared back from where they sat curled up together on the bed.

Sam held up a bag. “Figured nobody would feel like cooking after the Spanish Inquisition.”

Sharon scrambled out of the bed and snatched it from his hand with a quick thanks, taking her place at the kitchen counter to eat. Sam shook his head at Steve. “How long have you been crushing her?”

“You’re the one who crushes people,” Steve returned.

“Ha.” Sam looked between them. He lowered his voice to talk to Steve. “So it went okay? The interrogation?”

Steve shrugged. “Alexander Pierce brought a human along to question Sharon. They separated us, but if they noticed anything, they didn’t say anything.”

“They wouldn’t,” Sam muttered, grim. “They’ll wait until they can make a show.” He met Steve’s eyes and held them for several seconds. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It wouldn’t have helped. It was bad enough I said we adopted Sharon instead of bought her.”

Sam cursed softly under his breath, and Steve grasped his shoulder. Sam pressed his lips together. He nodded. “Sure. It’ll be fine. Just swell.” He headed toward the dresser to get a change of clothes.

Steve got to his feet and stretched. “Sharon? You joining us tonight?” His eyes crinkled when Sharon looked up, sauce on her cheek. She brushed it off with a thumb and sucked her thumb clean. They could take the human out of the camp, but not the camp out of the human. “If you are, or if you aren’t, brush your teeth first.”

* * *

Sharon saw Sam and Steve off to work the next night and did her chores. After the day before, when she and Steve had cleaned everything they could think of, there wasn’t much to do. She debated, then pulled one of Steve’s books off the shelves, along with some of the napkins from the meal Sam had brought the night before. With a pencil from Steve’s art supplies, she started copying the letters she knew she needed, over and over until they started to look more like the ones in the book. She did the same every night after, working to recreate the letters when the others weren’t around.

The next time she went to the market, she was ready. When she gave Natasha her the list of ingredients Steve and Sam had prepared, there was a napkin attached. 

_Maria sent me._


	5. Commission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon makes a new friend; Steve gets a new job. Sam, on the other hand, loses one.

Natasha studied the napkin in silence before handing it back. “I think this is supposed to go to someone else.”

Sharon’s face fell. “But-”

“I don’t know anyone named Maria,” Natasha said calmly. “I remember you mentioning her before, though. She watched over you in the barracks, you said.”

She nodded somberly. She had worked on the letters for so long, been so careful. She had been so sure that this Natasha was the one Maria had meant. “Your last name _is_ Romanoff, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Natasha’s lips quirked. “Where’d you hear that?”

Crap. Maria had said so, but no one else. Maybe this wasn’t the right Natasha, after all. And Sharon probably should have double-checked before giving Natasha the note. 

She wasn’t willing to give up hope yet. Maybe she could still make Natasha slip. 

She lifted her nose in the air. “Around,” she said loftily.

Natasha smirked and handed a bag over. “Stay safe, Sharon.” As soon as Sharon’s fingers were around the handles, Natasha moved to the far side of the stand, going through a pile of apples.

Sharon watched her work. Natasha glanced over and smiled pleasantly a couple times but otherwise focused on her work. Only when she realized that Natasha wasn’t going to reveal anything did she head home again, wondering what Maria had been thinking, wondering what Natasha was doing, wondering if it was the right Natasha or if there might be another somewhere nearby, wondering if she’d failed Aunt Peggy, and most of all, what the hell was she going to do now?

* * *

“What the hell has you so happy?” Mike demanded. He grunted as he loaded another case onto the pallet.

Sam stopped whistling, but only because it was difficult to whistle and smile at the same time. “Just woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t let the old man hear you. Us being happy, man. They hate that.”

Sam winked but didn’t stop grinning. “Don’t worry. I got this.” Despite his lack of sleep, or perhaps because of it, Sharon’s blood from that morning had him feeling energetic, ready to take on the world. He’d only been on site for five hours and was already almost done with his tasks. He figured he’d help Mike when he was done with his own stuff. The guy’s kid had been sent to a camp after Mike had been turned, and Mike had been searching for him ever since. Sam had never asked how the two had been torn apart; Mike shut down when someone mentioned Ace. It wasn’t hard to imagine why; the Skull liked black humans even less than he did black vampires. There was no way Ace was treated as well as the white humans, and that assumed Ace was still alive.

It wasn’t Sam’s place to ruin Mike’s hope of finding his son alive, though. He preferred to help Mike in a more proactive way. Tonight, he could help by giving Mike some extra time to play investigator.

They worked steadily for another hour before Gary cleared his throat from behind them. They both glanced at him but knew better than to stop working. They both needed the money, and they didn’t get paid if Gary thought they were slacking off.

“Wilson. With me.”

Sam’s hands slowed, and he felt Mike’s eyes on him as he carefully set the barrel on a truck bed. He composed himself and flashed Mike a confident grin before following Gary to his office. Mike knew as well as he did that the meeting wasn’t likely to go well, but Sam wasn’t going to bring the man farther down than he already was. 

Gary didn’t speak or look back at him the entire way. Outside of the apartment, Sam didn’t matter to most people. He told himself that he was accustomed to it, that he’d handled it before and would handle it again.

Sam slipped into the office behind Gary and waited as Gary settled himself at the desk. Sam tried not to shift impatiently. He forced himself to remember Steve sitting in one of their stupid mismatched under the lamp while he taught Sharon to read. He took a breath.

“You put in a request for more time.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam wanted to add that he and Steve had adopted a human, and God knew those creatures weren’t cheap. The taxes alone could send a vampire to the poorhouse. But an explanation would be seen as an excuse, and those weren’t tolerated.

“We can’t do more time.”

Sam inclined his head but said nothing. It had been a long shot, anyway. He and Steve would have to find the money some other way.

Gary cleared his throat. His eyes were on a folder on his desk. “The managers don’t want a greedy vamp on site.”

A chill swept over Sam’s bones. “Sir?”

Gary moved the folder a couple inches to the right. “They’re bringing in someone cheaper. Don’t know who yet. If there was something I could do...”

He swallowed. “Sir, I- I don’t need the raise.” A crappy job was still better than no job at all.

Gary held up a hand. “It’s out of my hands, Wilson. I’ve got to let you go. By now, security’s cleaned out your locker and will be waiting outside the door to walk you off site.”

Sam was barely aware of himself as he walked to the door and accepted the small bag from the security guard standing outside. In his decades of working here, he’d only left a few things here, none of which he particularly cared about. The only thing that mattered was the book on eighteenth-century poetry he’d brought to read on his breaks. Steve had lent it to him, but he knew better than to ask for as he followed security out. Steve would understand.

* * *

He could hear Sharon’s heartbeat jump when he opened the door. “Just me,” he called. He locked the door behind him and took a moment to lean against it and take a deep breath. How were they going to keep Steve’s promise to Peggy if they couldn’t afford to keep Sharon? The Skull’s forces would take her back to the camp, and then there was no telling what would happen to her after that.

“What are you doing home so early?” she asked. She smelled of cleaning solution and chemicals from the laundry. She never seemed to mind, though, so he and Steve never said anything. 

“Finished my work. Boss gave me some time off.” He followed the strongest chemical scent into the bathroom. A bucket of cleaning supplies and rags sat on the floor, and he picked it up and sorted through the bottles. “So I might as well help you finish up before Steve gets home.”

Her expression was dubious, but she had never put her foot down when it came to help doing her chores. “If you want, sure.”

“Like you’d ever turn down an offer to help you out,” he teased. 

She made a face and disappeared into the rest of the apartment.

He lasted ten minutes before the quiet became too much. He went still, listening to Sharon’s heartbeat and the announcements on the radio. Schmidt was planning another tour to mark the anniversary of worldwide peace. He did one every ten years or so, and no one ever seemed to mention - not even Steve - that it was easy to have peace when everyone who disagreed with Schmidt disappeared or was killed outright.

He set the bucket aside. He couldn’t clean when the only sound was the damn radio.

It took some finagling, but the records were exactly where he’d hidden them years ago. He’d been unable to get rid of them; they were the one of the last reminders he had of his family. Even as he looked at the record covers, he could remember his parents dancing around their tiny living space, his father bruised and patched up from another fight, and his mom laughing from some joke his dad had told. He could remember children, too, teens and adults whose faces had become indistinct with time. He wondered if they’d be glad he had survived, even if it meant he would eventually forget all of them, even if it meant he was now one of species that had hunted them for so long.

He’d spent too much time when he was first turned wondering such things, blaming himself for surviving as the enemy and hoping they wouldn’t blame him. 

He dusted off the records and the portable record player and set it up in the living room. It whined faintly as he turned it on, and he studied it for a moment to make sure it wouldn’t harm the record before setting one of his mom’s favorites on.

As the scritchy hints of piano keys jingled to life for the first time in years, and the bass, muffled by age, hummed rhythmically in the background, Sam heard Sharon stick her head out of the kitchen.

“Ma Rainey,” he said, without looking. “My mom loved her. Dad preferred Memphis Minnie.”

She wiped her hands on a dishrag. “I don’t know who... any of those people are.”

He grinned. “Well, you’re listening to Ma Rainey now. And she taught Bessie Smith, who was _my_ favorite. Other than that, all I can tell you is that she’s dead. Memphis Minnie, too.” He looked sideways at her. “You ever dance?”

She snorted. “Oh, yeah. We had a different dance for each vegetable we picked. We were so great the vamps loved-” Her cheeks went white, and she stared at him.

He kept his lips in a soft smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d blurted something out; he could only hope that she wouldn’t let something important slip down the road. “Do I seem like one of those vamps to you?”

She didn’t answer, unsure, and his smile faltered. “Come here.” He stretched a hand to her, and though she looked at it with suspicion, she slowly reached out to take it but kept his hand at arm’s length. He tried not to be upset that she still didn’t trust them. Not even he trusted most vampires.

“You ever dance before?” Her eyes darted to their joined hands as she realized what he intended, and he chuckled to himself. She looked even less thrilled about dancing than Steve did. “It’s something we did before the Skull took over. Here. I’ll show you.”

He hadn’t danced in years; she evidently hadn’t, either. But after several rusty starts, he switched out Ma Rainey for Coleman Hawkins. The faster beat was perfect for swing, which Sam had been fond of ever since he’d been a kid. He showed her the chicken walk, then the coaster step. By the time he got to aerials, he’d recovered his good humor enough to joke with her, and she felt well enough to laugh and joke back.

Steve came in as they were working on the Lindy Hop, and he stared at Sam’s undershirt and Sharon’s rolled-up sleeves and the wisps of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, and in a flash the door was closed and locked, the needle was up on the record, the player unplugged, and Steve stood behind it, holding the cord and looking livid. His and Sharon’s joviality dissolved.

“What do you think you’re _doing?_ ” he demanded.

Sam heard Sharon’s heartbeat pound and set a steadying hand on her arm. He didn’t think she’d ever seen Steve so angry before. “Why don’t you go finish up in the kitchen?” he suggested. “I’ve got to talk to Steve for a minute.”

He held Steve’s gaze as she hurried away. In the kitchen, he could hear the water in the sink, and her heartbeat slowly calmed with the familiar task. He kept his voice low. “I got fired today.”

Steve gaped at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” And Sam knew that Steve understood the implications, too. Steve didn’t make enough from his artwork to support the two of them, let alone the two of them and a human.

But he was also a stupid ass. Sam could already see Steve’s jaw clench. “We’ll work it out.” 

Sam sighed. Stupid, stubborn ass. “Steve. We don’t have the money.”

“We’ll work it out,” Steve repeated. 

“ _How?_ ” Sam demanded. “Steve. It took both of us to buy Sharon in the first place. Not adopt, because that’s a lie. We _bought_ her. And we both know there’s a reason only the rich buy humans. We aren’t rich, Steve. We’re about to be even poorer. There’s no way you can paint enough art to sell, and even if you could, that money wouldn’t last. It wouldn’t be constant or reliable.” Sam covered his eyes and rubbed his temples. He sighed and forced himself to count to ten. “Steve. We managed to save, I know. But most months we weren’t sure we’d be able to pay the taxes imposed on vampires. We dipped into our savings to adopt Sharon, but- but something’s gotta give, man.”

Steve squared his jaw. “Don’t give up yet, Sam.”

Sam laughed mirthlessly. “I came home and _danced,_ Steve. I’m not sure I’d take that as giving up. More like straight-up going insane.” He frowned at the record player and hoped Steve’s speed hadn’t damaged it. “We could leave,” he suggested. “Start somewhere new.”

Steve actually seemed as if he were considering it. He lowered his voice. “The Skull’s forces have spread too far. And they have more security in place than last time. I don’t think we _could_ start over someplace new.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “And it’s not just the two of us anymore.”

Following his gaze, Sam wondered if they could just turn Sharon and get it over with. It was merely a brief thought. Turning a human without the Skull’s permission was a death sentence for both the sire and its progeny. Sure, the three of them could run, but how would they feed? And how long could they survive when the Skull’s forces had all the time in the world to hunt them down?

Steve looked at him ruefully and shook his head. “We need to tell Sharon,” he said slowly. “To paint that much, I might need more blood. And we may have to cut back on some things. She should know why.” He pressed his lips together, but whatever else he thought, he didn’t say, and Sam didn’t ask.

He followed Steve into the kitchen, keeping his head down until the silence got to him and he realized that Steve was waiting for him to speak. He sighed. “Fine. Sharon. I lost my job.”

She stood, looking from him to Steve and back, her fingers still pale and faintly wrinkled from doing the dishes. He could smell the disgustingly fresh, lemony scent from across the room. “You said your boss gave you time off work.”

“I lied,” he confessed. He shifted and glanced at Steve. He’d been ashamed at having been fired, at what could happen as a result.

Steve cut in to save him. “But it means we might need to make some changes.” Sharon paled, and Steve shook his head. “Not that. We’re not getting rid of you. But we might have to scale back on things around the apartment.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then hesitated. “How?”

Steve glanced at Sam, Sam stared back. They both knew that they had already cut things down as much as they could. The law required that humans have certain items; most of their money had gone into clothing or other necessities for Sharon. 

“I’ll find another job,” Sam said firmly. “Just try and take shorter showers until then, okay?”

* * *

Sharon went back to Natasha’s a couple days later with another list of groceries. This time, she had a goal in mind other than following up on what Maria had told her; she’d have to find a way to deal with that later. Their new situation had shifted her priorities. She still didn’t fully understand what it meant that Sam had lost his job, but she knew it meant a smaller income and that she might have to go back to the camp.

She wasn’t going back.

Natasha greeted her exactly as she had greeted Sharon so many times before. Friendly, with a smile, as if Sharon were a valued customer and nothing more.

Sharon handed over her list and waited patiently while Natasha frowned at it.

“Most of these are out of season,” Natasha murmured. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get everything.” If she noticed that all of them were easy to raise from seeds, she didn’t mention it.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Sharon said firmly.

Natasha continued to frown at the list. “Only one apple? You’re sure.”

Sharon met her eye. “One apple.”

Natasha nodded and lowered her eyes to the stand, selecting the fruits and vegetables Sharon had requested before handing over the bag. “Thank you for shopping with us.”

“My pleasure.” She gave Natasha a smile and walked away. She felt Natasha’s eyes on the back of her neck but ignored it. Natasha wasn’t willing to share information about Maria, and Sharon was under no obligation to do share information about her own plans.

She worked her way through the marketplace, going into some of the shops for the first time. She’d never been in a crafts shop before, and she was more than a little appalled and offended that vamps had the luxury to do crafts in the first place. Sure, Steve painted, but he did it for a living. These other vamps did things like screen painting or candle-making just to pass the time. What the hell was screen painting supposed to be? And why would anyone ever want to paint a screen? Sharon didn’t ask, and none of the vamps volunteered the information. Sharon got the impression that they were all silently judging one another. The vamp behind the counter helped her find a small sewing kit, and she moved on to the next stop. 

Her last stop was the gardening center. She quieted her heart as much as she could so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Inside, she found more traces of decadence - the only seeds they offered were for useless flowers that bloomed early or late at night. She found the pots she would need but had to put many of them back so she could buy the dirt she would need. 

She made her purchases and eyed the line of trolleys at the front of the store. “Could I borrow one of those?” she asked. 

The vamp behind the counter eyed her collar. He looked bored; his tone matched. “No.”

Sharon frowned at him, then looked at the pots and the bag of dirt. Those would be heavy enough to carry, but with the other bags... “I’ll bring it back. It won’t be longer than twenty minutes.”

“Those are for vamps only. You want a cart, get turned.” Some vamps nearby chuckled, and Sharon bit her lip. If it had been Natasha, she would have asked Natasha to watch her things while she carried things home load by load. But these vamps weren’t Natasha. 

“I’ll take one,” someone behind her said. She turned and saw an older man, short, with white hair and a gray beard. His features were more tanned than most vampires’. His eyes were kinder, too. But then, if there was one thing she’d learned since being bought, it was how little she knew. Maybe he wasn’t as unusual as he appeared, and she just hadn’t seen anyone like him before.

“You want a cart, you gotta buy something. Can’t just take a cart.”

The older man picked a plant marker from a rack beside the counter and tossed the vamp some money. “There. Thank you for the use of your trolley.” Without another word, he picked up Sharon’s pots and dirt as if they weighed nothing and set them on the trolley.

“Hey!” the vamp behind the counter shouted. “You can’t do that!”

The man held up the plant marker. “I made a purchase. I get a cart. You said so yourself.” He put some more of Sharon’s bags on the trolley before making his way outside. Realizing that Sharon was still frozen in place, staring after him, he turned and jerked his head toward the street. “Coming? You have to show me where to take these.”

Sharon hurried to fall into step beside him. “Why- why are you doing this?” she asked, glancing back at the vamp behind the counter. He glared after the two of them.

“You needed help, I was able to give it. Do I need more of a reason?”

“Are you a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, you need more of a reason.”

He chuckled and held out a hand as he continued pushing the cart with the other. “My name is Abe. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss...”

“Sharon.” She hesitated, then took his hand. It was cool to the touch. Not as cold as Steve and Sam, but still cold. “If you’re going to try something, I’m already owned.”

“Yes, that’s generally what the collar means.” He sounded amused, but also saddened. “I have to admit, it was no accident we met. I may have been watching you.” Before she could be alarmed, he shrugged as if he were nothing more than a harmless old fool. “Natasha asked me to find if you were... legitimate? Yes, that’s the word she used, legitimate.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean, ‘legitimate?’ What does that mean?”

“I believe in this case, it means whether we believe you to be trustworthy or not.”

Her heart started beating faster. “‘We?'”

He shrugged and waved a hand to the cart. “Where am I taking this? And why are you buying no flowers for your pots?”

Sharon looked quickly to the pots and the dirt, then to the groceries and then back to the man. “We’ve got some at the apartment. We just need new pots.”

“Ah,” Abe said in understanding. “Lead the way.”

No, she decided. This vampire was not the usual sort of vampire at all.

* * *

The next time Sharon went to Natasha’s, she noticed Abe on the other side of the courtyard. She gave him a nod, and he gave her a small wave in response.

She handed Natasha her list, and Natasha accepted it without looking at it. “You’re trying to grow your own vegetables,” she said in an undertone.

Sharon shrugged. “Sam lost his job. Hasn’t found a new one yet. I’m trying to help.”

Natasha frowned. “I’ll charge you half price.”

“I can grow vegetables, Natasha. It’s what I did back at the camp.”

The redhead studied her for several seconds. “It’s dangerous, you know. Humans are meant to keep their owners so poor that they can’t rebel against the Skull. If the inspectors find out you’re doing something to alleviate the cost of your keep, they might punish Steve and Sam.”

Sharon thought of the two pots on the rooftop, currently looking sad and pathetic with only dirt to fill them. “Where do you grow yours?” She shrugged. “Maybe I can grow them there and, I don’t know, help you grow your stuff?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see. For now, bring me yours. I’ll look after them for you.”

Sharon considered for several seconds. “I can send them back with Abe if it’s so important.”

She watched as Natasha found Abe over Sharon’s shoulder. “It _is_ that important.” She looked at Sharon’s list, and within moments, Sharon had multiple bags of fruits and vegetables. 

Moments later, Sharon frowned at the change Natasha had deposited in her hand. She glanced doubtfully from the change to the bags and back again. Natasha had given her too much money back. She wasn’t certain of the math, but she knew she had more money that she normally did. She held her hand out to Natasha, only for Natasha to smile and shake her hand.

“You’ll need it for meat,” Natasha said firmly. 

She couldn’t afford to take Natasha’s charity for granted. She pocketed the money.

* * *

Steve sometimes felt guilty about how much he loved his gallery; he had never even told Sam how much he loved it. The walls were white, the lights bright. Except for the radio, the gallery was quiet and peaceful. Foot traffic tended to pick up a little after midnight, but other than that, Steve could go for hours without seeing anyone. He had taken to painting in the back corner between customers, and without someone there to interrupt, he could easily paint for hours on end without noticing the passage of time.

As he worked on his third painting of the week, he had to admit that adopting Sharon had worked out well. Sure, Sam had lost his job, but between the three of them cutting back and Steve producing and selling more art, they were making ends meet. Not having to schedule a visit to the camps for a meal helped. They didn’t have enough to feel comfortable, and Sam hadn’t found another job yet, but they made ends meet.

Today’s painting was of a sun-dappled Brooklyn before the War. Although vampires were supposed to follow the Skull’s lead and avoid any suggestion that they missed the sun, Steve had found that many of them - including himself - missed sunlight. It was a risky subject these days, but the painting would sell even though it wasn’t Steve’s best work. He could put a higher price tag on it than he could many of the others in his shop. It was worth the risk.

The bell over the door rang, and Steve wiped his fingers on a damp cloth as he strode to the front of the gallery. He paused when he saw who the visitor was, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “Mr. Pierce. It’s good to see you again.”

Pierce gave him a civil nod and looked around the front of the gallery. He pressed a hand to a pocket of his three-piece suit as he studied a portrait of Audrey Nathan, one of the cellists in the National Orchestra. “This is a lovely piece,” he commended Steve.

Steve stepped closer and nodded his thanks. “She was a great subject. Very patient, good sense of humor.”

“How long did it take?”

Steve tried not to make a face. “All told, I spent a couple weeks up there. I prefer to get to know the subjects beforehand, get to know their expressions, when they’re truest to themselves, that sort of thing.”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Is that common for artists?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m the only one I know that paints. I know some people have taken it up, but most of them don’t do it for a living. I don’t think they try so hard to get it right.” He grimaced. He felt like he was revealing too much about himself to someone whom he didn’t want to know such things. Ultimately, each portrait he did was a deeply personal undertaking, and he preferred not to reveal too much even to his subjects. Audrey had been pleasant enough that he’d shown her more, but he’d been careful not to reveal much to her. Sam was the only one who truly knew him. He cleared his throat. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Pierce set his hands on his hips and took a slow turn around the room. Steve glimpsed the human outside, standing by Pierce’s car. Good. At least Sharon wasn’t getting a surprise visit. “You make a living at this, do you?”

“I do pretty well,” Steve admitted.

“Enough to support your human.”

“I take that responsibility very seriously.” Steve’s voice was firm. He didn’t have to pretend; he had promised Peggy to look after Sharon, and he would.

Pierce nodded. “I suppose some extra money wouldn’t hurt, though.”

Steve pursed his lips. “If you’d like to commission a portrait,” he said slowly, “it wouldn’t be difficult to arrange.”

“Oh, not for me,” Pierce said cheerfully. “For Emperor Schmidt.”


	6. Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets suspicious, and Sharon meets the resistance. Steve gets a request he isn't keen on.

Steve was still in a daze as he let himself into the apartment at the end of the night. Sam was already in, dressed in trousers and undershirt, working on more applications. No luck job hunting today, then.

He squeezed Sam’s shoulder as he walked in and pulled off his coat. Even though vampires weren’t bothered by the cold, the Skull was old-fashioned and preferred that people dress according to the seasons. Sharon appeared at his elbow to whisk the coat away.

“I got a commission today,” Steve announced. “A big one.”

They looked at him expectantly. Both understood that a big commission meant more income, and the hope in Sam’s eyes almost hurt see.

“I’m painting Emperor Schmidt’s portrait.”

He had anticipated shouts of pleasure or cries of outrage. Neither happened. Seconds ticked by.

“Isn’t he the Skull?” Sharon asked, glancing at Sam. “As in, the actual Skull?”

Sam leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Why would they ask you?”

Steve tried not to look as affronted as he felt. “He wanted an artist. I’m an artist.”

“Yeah, but you also visited Peggy and adopted Sharon. And used the word ‘adopted’ with Pierce instead of ‘bought.’ Are you sure they’re hiring you for your art?”

Steve pressed his lips together. He hated to admit think that he hadn’t been chosen because of the caliber of his work. If it hadn’t been for the money the commission would bring in, he would hate to have been chosen at all. But Sam had a point. Countless vampires had turned to the arts as their leisure time increased. Some had even become competent artists by traditional standards. There were better artists than he out there.

“You think,” he said carefully, “that they’re trying to question me more.”

Sam nodded, then shrugged. “Intimidation, maybe? Keeping tabs on you? And maybe they need the portrait done, too. Kill two birds with one stone.” He turned to Sharon. “Speaking of things we don’t know. You need to tell us about whoever’s been helping you carry things lately.”

She jumped and gripped the back of the chair. “Nobody,” she said firmly.

“Bull. I can smell them whenever you come home from errands.”

Her face scrunched up as she glared at him. “ _Nobody,_ ” she repeated.

“Hmph.” He didn’t sound convinced. He looked to Steve. “Can you back out?”

He shook his head. “Can’t. Even if it weren’t the Skull - the Emperor, I mean - we need the money. We’re on a single income right now.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, and his eyes fell to the resumes on the table. “The timing’s kind of odd, right?” After a couple seconds, he shook his head. “Nah. Probably just didn’t want to have a black guy where he could be seen by the Skull’s fine, pure eyes when he tours the continent.” He scowled. He read over one of the questions on an application again, but he was upset enough that when he nibbled the end of the pen, he did it too hard. He gagged as ink got in his mouth. “Damn it!” He ran for the bathroom, Steve quickly stepping out of his way. 

“Why is it so dangerous to work with the Skull?” Sharon asked. “Is it just because of Peggy?”

Steve’s eyes bore down on her. She’d asked before, and he had told her that he and Sam had nothing to hide. She hadn’t bought it then, and he should have known better than to think she’d forget. “Nothing for you to worry about.” He purposefully looked at his watch. “Isn’t it almost lunchtime?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have to try and distract me as if I’m a child. I don’t have to eat at a set time each day, and I’m not going to forget-”

He sighed loudly enough to drown out the rest of her words. “Fine. How about seeing if Sam needs blood? He’ll need something to get the taste of ink out of his mouth.”

She still didn’t seem convinced, but she went to offer her neck to Sam nonetheless. He supposed he should be relieved she took her duties seriously.

* * *

The next evening, Sharon waited until Steve had left for work and Sam had gone to drop off another round of applications before grabbing her collar and pulling on a thick coat. It wasn’t particularly cold out, but Steve had told her that the temperatures were expected to be under sixty and thus the law dictated that she had to wear the damnably heavy thing. She grabbed the canvas bag Natasha had given her to haul the groceries - although Abe had been doing the heavy lifting - and set off for the elevator. 

She was cut off by Raina, a neighbor that Sam and Steve had pointed out before. Like Sam, Raina wasn’t white, nor was she wealthy, or else she wouldn’t be living in the apartment building. But she was _gorgeous,_ and Sharon had to admit to herself that she envied Raina’s dresses. They were always silky, covered in flowery designs. She doubted she could pull off a dress half so well. Sharon’s steps slowed as she neared the elevator, and Raina’s head instantly swiveled toward her.

“You’re mistaken,” Raina said calmly, seeing Sharon’s eye on the elevator button. “Humans take the stairs.”

Raina might have been pretty, but Sharon couldn’t call her kind.

Sharon quickly lowered her eyes and moved quickly on. Steve and Sam had never insisted she take the stairs, but she’d found they didn’t insist on much at all. So long as she played the part of a subservient human in public, they didn’t seem to care what she did.

Vampires were weird.

She descended the stairs shortly after Raina reached the lobby, but if Raina noticed her walking behind the vampire, she showed no sign. Once they got to the market, Raina branched off to talk to merchants, leaving Sharon to think rude thoughts about the vampire as she continued on her way.

Her mood lifted when she saw Abe, then fell again. She inclined her head toward Natasha’s stall, and when she met him there, she handed her list to Darcy, Natasha’s human. Sharon didn’t know Darcy as well as she did Natasha, so she waited until Darcy had left to get something before saying, “I can’t let you help me carry things home anymore. Sam said he could smell you on the things you touched.”

“Could he now,” Abe asked, amused. 

Sharon nodded. “I don’t think he believed me when I said nobody was helping me, either.”

“He wouldn’t. Otherwise, he’d have to think you had superhuman strength, and I’m afraid no one would believe that of you.”

She shrugged and forced herself to grin at him. As sad as it was, even though he was a vampire, he’d become the closest thing she had to a friend outside of the camp. She wasn’t looking forward to no longer having him around to help her with her errands.

He frowned at her. “Vampires’ sense of smell is not quite so strong. We do not smell other vampires as we do humans. If you were to go somewhere, for instance, certainly, I would be able to follow the scent. You produce oils in your skin; they make it easier to track you. We vampires produce no such oils. Our bodies are essentially in a state of flux so long as we have access to fresh blood. I highly doubt that I will have to give up your company simply because your friend claims to have smelled my scent on your things.”

She brightened again, and then her features twisted with confusion. “What’s flux?”

Abe seemed so pleased at the prospect of explaining something that he pulled both hands from his pockets to help him illustrate his point, but before he could begin, Darcy reappeared.

“Natasha says she thinks something is wrong with those plants you’re trying to raise, and that you should come take a look yourself.”

Sharon frowned. Most of the seeds, she hadn’t even tried to plant yet. They had to be frozen for a while to imitate winter conditions. 

Darcy lifted up part of the counter and raised an eyebrow at Sharon until Sharon gingerly stepped through.

“I’ll come, too,” Abe said, following close behind. He grinned. “In case there’s something I need to carry.”

Darcy didn’t seem bothered by Abe’s company at all, and Sharon followed as Darcy led the way to a stairwell. They went down into the ground, where the wealthiest of vampires lived because it kept them safe from the sun no matter what, and Abe stopped halfway down. Darcy and Sharon continued on, and Sharon stared at Darcy as if she were crazy as the other girl walked around a sitting room multiple times and urged Sharon to do the same. At one point, Darcy stopped and turned to Sharon. “Sit,” she said, pushing Sharon into a chair. She shoved Sharon’s arms onto the armrest and rubbed them against the fabric before pulling Sharon to her feet again. “Okay. Let’s go. From here on out, don’t touch _anything._ ”

Sharon’s heartbeat sped up. As they walked back up the stairs to where Abe waited, she could see from his knowing smile that he could hear her heartbeat from where he stood. 

Darcy did something she couldn’t see, and a panel of the wall sprang back. “Don’t touch anything,” she repeated. She pointed at her eyes with two fingers, then at Sharon, and then back to her own eyes before disappearing into the newly-revealed passageway.

“She’s watching you,” Abe translated. 

“Not unless she has eyes in the back of her head.” Nonetheless, Sharon made herself as thin as possible and slipped into the passageway after Darcy. “This is to hide my scent if other vampires come looking?”

“You’re quick,” Abe commended.

In the near darkness, she allowed herself a smug smile. She decided not to mention that she, Steve, and Sam washed all of their bedsheets at the same time for the same reason. It was bad enough that she was friends with vampires; it was so much worse that she would rather sleep with two of them than alone. Then it occurred to her that Abe might have just been indulging her, and her smugness faded.

Eventually, the passageway dipped downwards, spiraling down, down, and farther down. There were multiple branched-off portions, little more than thin shadows in the darkness, that Darcy had to help her with. After what seemed like forever, Darcy stopped and glanced over Sharon’s shoulder to Abe, then threw open another entryway. Sharon’s eyes stung at the sudden light, and she stepped forward to tentatively peek through the doorway.

“Don’t just stand there like a mouse,” Natasha instructed from a chair inside. “Come inside.”

Sharon skirted inside and then froze, looking around in amazement. She was in a room underground, well lit by yellow bulbs, and she had never seen so many people who weren’t white. At least three of the men were black, two of the women looked more like Raina but without Raina’s intense curls. She stared at them until Darcy nudged her in the arm and she quickly lowered her eyes. She didn’t know if these people were vampires or not, but she knew better than to find out by upsetting them.

“This way,” Natasha said, seemingly unfazed. She moved through a doorway, and Sharon followed, her eyes wide as she took in as much as she could. There were lights here, too, another room with more people in it. There was another room after that, and another after that. One of the rooms had wounded people on beds and a woman overseeing. She snapped at one of the people about ducking next time as they passed by.

“That’s my cue,” Darcy said, breaking off.

It was then that Sharon noticed that they were being followed. Not just by Abe, but by one of the black men and one of the lighter-skinned women as well. She looked at them for a moment, but she nearly walked into a table and turned back around again.

Natasha led the way down another set of stairs and stopped at the bottom. “You okay?” she asked, looking concerned.

Sharon nodded, trying not to sound or look as out of breath as she felt.

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she opened the door nonetheless, keeping to the shadows as bright light spilled out. “May and Trip will have to take you from here.” She nodded to each in turn by way of introduction; May merely nodded a little at the mention of her name, but Trip smiled widely and gave her an enthusiastic nod.

Sharon gasped as she realized why. “Is that sunlight?” How had they gotten sunlight this deep underground?

Abe chuckled, though Natasha merely smiled. “It’s artificial,” she said. “But it still gives me a hell of a headache.”

“Oh.” She peered inside, and her jaw dropped as she line after line of plants. Trees, bushes, smaller plants in pots. She recognized several of them from having worked them in the camp. “ _Oh._ ”

The woman, May, gave her a small nudge to get her moving again, and Sharon quickly stepped inside. May and Trip followed, and the door closed behind them. “They’ve been hit by some sort of fungus,” May said. Her humorless tone matched her expression. “We haven’t been able to stop it from spreading to other plants, and now they’re starting to die. Natasha said you might be able to help. Can you?”

Sharon shrugged. “Depends on the fungus. Can you show me?”

May’s nod was just as utterly businesslike as the rest of her. She strode toward the far end of the room, leaving Sharon to follow after her. Trip fell into step beside her, with Abe bringing up the rear.

Sharon glanced at Trip. “So... am I allowed to ask questions?”

He flashed her a grin. “If you weren’t, I’d already be upset. But go on. Ask away.”

She glanced behind her at Abe. “Are you and May human? How many humans are here? Why are you-” She hesitated, unsure how to ask what she wanted to know. Sam had been the first black vampire she’d met, but she’d never seen a black human before.

He lifted an eyebrow but seemed to understand. “Natasha says you came from the camps. Not many people like us there, right?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sam was the first person I saw who wasn’t pale like me.”

Trip nodded and crossed his arms. His mirth faded. “What did they teach you about the War there?”

Sharon shrugged. “Not much. I’ve heard stories, though. That people used to live all over the place, but then the vamps started taking over. Maria said that we were actually starting to win until the Skull came.”

Trip glanced at Abe, then back at her. “That’s it?”

Sharon glowered. She was getting tired of explaining her lack of education to people. “They ran a camp, not a school,” she snapped. “I can read now. And there’s a reason you brought me in about the plants. I’m not stupid. I just don’t know everything.”

“We’ve already asked experts about the plants,” May said calmly. “They don’t know what to do. You’re just here because we’re desperate, and a long shot is better than nothing.”

“Anyway,” Trip cut in, drawing the word out until Sharon stopped glaring at the back of May’s head. “There used to be a lot of people like me and May. Even Abe.”

Sharon turned toward Abe.

“Jewish,” he supplied.

She frowned, then bit her lip. She’d have to ask what that meant later. She turned back to Trip.

“See, the Skull grew up being taught that people like us were responsible for everything bad in the world. Everybody was saying that Jews were responsible for people being poor, that black people were criminals. White people decided that they were the master race. And since they had made the biggest weapons, they felt they had a pretty strong argument. German - where the Skull’s from - started taking over any country that didn’t agree with them. But then the Allies - that’s America, England, and France, mostly - started fighting back and gaining ground. Now Germany had a big problem with that, because the Allies had a bunch of people who weren’t white working for them. People like my granddad. He was part of a group of people that went around kicking Nazi ass. But then the Skull was turned into a vampire, and he realized that if he created more vampires who would do his bidding, he’d win the War. So he did. After the War, though, he realized that vampires were the true master race. He’d have to keep humans around, sure, because vampires can’t live without them, but he only had to keep around the humans he wanted to look at.” He shrugged. “So he passed a law. White humans went to camps. Everyone else was slaughtered.”

Sharon stared at him. By now, May had stopped at a tree with a gray fuzz at its base, and at a pointed look from her, Sharon tentatively walked over to get a better look. “Why would he do that, though? Why not use you guys for labor like us?”

Trip and May shared a look. “Because he wanted to wipe us out,” May said, her voice flat. “The vamps think our blood is tainted, so we’re no good food-wise. And keeping us as labor means we have to be fed. It’s cheaper for them to wipe us out.”

She frowned. “Sam’s black. They didn’t kill him. Raina, too.”

They shared another look. This time, it was Trip who tried to explain. “Vamps who were turned before the War were allowed to survive, but they have strict regulations put on them. They’re limited in where they can live and what jobs they can get.”

Sharon thought for a moment, her eyes on the fungus but her mind elsewhere. “And can they lose those jobs if the Skull is coming through soon?”

This time, they both stared at her. Even Abe’s look was sharper than usual.

“Why?” Trip asked.

“Because Sam lost his job at the docks a couple days ago, and Steve got a commission to do the Skull’s portrait.” She wrinkled her nose. “And he’s calling him Emperor Schmidt around the house now.”

“Do you know when he will come?” Abe pressed.

Sharon shrugged. “Not yet. But Steve has to do the portrait, so I’m sure I’ll hear about it sooner or later.” She looked to Trip to ask more questions about the War, but he and the others all seemed preoccupied, glancing at each other in communication that she wasn’t privy to. She sighed. Maybe she could ask later. “Have you tried chamomile?”

“Chamomile,” May repeated. “Which is?”

Sharon bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if May and the others had been taught anything here. Chamomile should have been the first thing they tried. What so-called “experts” did they have? “They’re a kind of weed, mostly. I mean, they’re flowers, but they grow like weeds. They’re good for dealing with rot in plants. And indigestion.” She looked between them. Only Abe’s eyes held a flicker of recognition.

“Chamomile tea,” he said with a nod. “I haven’t heard of it in ages, but I remember it from before the War.”

Sharon nodded. “That’s what we need. Enough chamomile to make a lot of tea.”

Trip looked to May. “Pretty sure we don’t have chamomiles.”

“Then you’d better get some,” Sharon said firmly. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to sound as if she were bossing them around. She still couldn’t believe they hadn’t tried chamomile yet. “And then I have some more questions,” she admitted.

* * *

Sam watched her over dinner as Steve sketched a background for his commission. It wasn’t even an hour before dawn, and Sharon was already having trouble staying awake. Steve, of course, hadn’t noticed, too wrapped up in his work. He’d been fretting ever since he’d come home from the gallery.

Sam was fretting, too, but he was taking great pains to hide it. He hadn’t been accepted anywhere. Even the places that said they were hiring and seemed glad to take his application later said they had decided not to give him the job. He had run into the attitude before, but never so consistently. He had half a mind to ask Raina if she’d been treated similarly in the wake of the announcement of the Skull’s tour, but he didn’t her as far as he could throw her. He didn’t want her knowing they were having trouble making ends meet. She might try to use that knowledge to her own ends somehow; he wouldn’t put it past her.

Sharon yawned, and Sam glanced at her. “You’d better get ready for bed,” he said firmly. She managed a nod and drowsily rinsed off her dishes in the sink before trudging to the bathroom. 

Wanting something to do, Sam washed her dishes and put them aside to try before wandering back to the table. “She’s still around whoever that scent belongs to,” he said quietly.

Steve jumped. “Hm?”

Sam sighed. “Nothing.”

Steve held up two sketches of almost-identical backgrounds. “What do you think?”

Sam stared at him. Only one of them had any degree of artistic talent, and it wasn’t him.

“Right,” Steve said, lowering the sketches.

He looked crestfallen enough that Sam leaned forward. “The one on the right looks better,” he said, not really having any idea. But Steve seemed satisfied. And helping Steve feel that way was probably the only satisfying thing Sam had done all night.

* * *

Sharon liked going to Natasha’s even more now that she was allowed downstairs. It turned out that Natasha’s human, Darcy, had been taking care of the plants with a girl named Daisy while helping out the nurse, Jane, on the side. Though they were considered the place’s experts, neither Darcy nor Daisy had been taught how to take care of plants like Sharon had, and the three of them spent long hours in what they called the green room, with Sharon helping them take care of the plants and passing on as much knowledge as she could. 

“I have a friend who does biology. Chemical biology, I mean,” Daisy said as they repotted tomato plants. “She’d probably love this stuff.” She grinned. “I’d ask her to get her hands dirty with us, but she’s trying to help Abe find a cure.”

“A cure?” Sharon added some more dirt to the pot, glad that her muscles hadn’t weakened too much since she’d worked in the fields. Perhaps there was an upside to doing so many chores around the house. 

“They think they can undo the vampire thing. It’s like... computers.” At Sharon’s blank look, she continued. “So they’ve got these things called computers. I tried to build one once. They take up, like, whole rooms and are hard as hell to use, but the point is, computers have operating systems. When you upgrade to a new OS, it overwrites the old one. Simmons and Abe are trying to find a way to bring back the original operating system.”

“Trying to make vampires human again,” Darcy supplied.

Sharon shook her head at Daisy. “Why can’t you speak English?”

Daisy lifted dirty fingers curved like claws. “Bleep blorp.”

Sharon sighed. “Any word on the chamomile?”

“Word is Nat’s people are still looking. Apparently ‘flowers that don’t always have petals’ aren’t easy to find.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “If I could get out of the city long enough, I could find some. They grow all over the place.”

Darcy leaned forward and patted her on the head in a condescending but joking manner. She was the only person Sharon had met who could straddle that line so perfectly. “No going anywhere without permission to you, little lady. Silly human.”

Daisy made a face. “At least some of us don’t have to wear those stupid collars whenever we go out.”

Darcy flashed her a grin and pushed the empty pot aside. “Yeah, but you aren’t allowed out at all.” She leaned forward, her eyes intent on Daisy’s neck. “And you replaced a collar with neck hair.” 

Daisy gasped. “I do _not_ have neck hair.”

Darcy pointed at a spot on Daisy’s neck. “Then explain that, Bigfoot.”

“Whoa,” Daisy said slowly. She covered her neck with a hand. “I know where you sleep, Darcy!”

“If that’s your way of asking for a razor, I can’t help you. But maybe you can grow it out and use it as a scarf!”

“What, exactly, is going on here?” Natasha demanded.

All of them jumped, and Daisy and Sharon quickly returned to repotting plants as Darcy picked up her freshly-potted tomato and carried it to a table. “We’re repotting the tomatoes,” she explained to Natasha. “Sharon says they do better in this size.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and the three of them studiously avoiding looking at her. True, they had been repotting the plants, but they’d also spent a lot of time talking. She didn’t comment on it, though, instead saying, “Sharon, I need to talk with you. In private.”

Darcy and Daisy looked at Sharon, shrugged, and went back to their own work. Sharon made a face and got to her feet, shaking the dirt from her skirt. 

“What can I do for you?” she asked as she followed Natasha into the hall.

“Get trained.”

Sharon looked at her blankly. Trained for what?

“Steve is going to paint the Skull’s portrait, which means you might overhear some things, or, rather, be in a position to overhear some things. You need to know what to do if the occasion should come up.” Natasha looked over her shoulder to the door of the green room. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

Sharon nodded, then paused. “The chamomile-”

“I’ll let you know if they find any. But for now, you need to get home. It’s late.”

Sharon nodded. By now, she knew her way up to the top without help, though she still popped her head in to say good-bye to Trip and May. Someone, she wasn’t sure who, had completed her errands and left the bags by the door of Natasha’s shop. Abe was evidently too busy to help her carry everything home.

She sighed and slung the heaviest bag over her shoulder before picking up the others. She was pleased to see that the fabric remnants she’d asked for were present, and she studied the fabric for a moment before nodding to herself. Some of her clothes were looking worn, but this would patch them just fine.

As she waited for the elevator, the lobby door opened to reveal Raina. Sharon sighed and headed for the stairs again, not looking forward to walking up the several flights to the Steve and Sam’s floor.

Raina sniffed. “Why does it smell like dirt here?” she demanded.

Sharon shrugged. “Perhaps there’s dirt here.”

The other woman’s eyes narrowed. “There had better not be. Clean it up and don’t let it happen again. And if that smell is you, take a bath.”

Sharon inclined her head. “Yes, ma’am.” She stayed in place until the elevator came, then sighed and straightened up again. A bath, she could do. But cleaning the whole damn lobby? Raina could kiss her human ass.


	7. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam follows Sharon and discovers more than he bargained for; Steve meets the Skull.

Sam had heard of ulcers. Though he’d never had one himself, he was certain Steve and Sharon were going to give him his first. Steve was outwardly calm, but Sam knew him well enough to see the panic underneath. Pierce had turned down some of Steve’s ideas and suggested a number of other ones, all of them intricate and often shortly before dawn, and Steve spent long hours at home and even more at his gallery doing sketch after sketch after sketch.

As for Sharon, he had no idea what she was up to. She didn’t smell of the the stranger’s scent anymore, but now she came home with dirt under her nails and smelling of fresh earth. Sam didn’t even know where she was finding access to it; the vampires in the community hadn’t exactly made a community garden for themselves. As the days wore on, she sported bruises on her arms and legs. When questioned, she denied anything was different and said she had slipped on the stairs.

As if he and Steve were idiots.

On the other hand, one benefit of whatever Sharon was doing was that she fell asleep before him and Steve. Sam settled in beside her and waited while she shifted in her sleep. He spotted a fresh bruise on her arm.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples. “I’ll find out what’s going on,” he told Steve, who was still busy sketching on Sharon’s other side. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Steve glanced at him. “That would help. If it’s another vamp, I’ll have to get it straightened out at court.”

Sam growled. If a vamp was assaulting Sharon, she’d tell them, right? Why wouldn’t she tell them?

Unless she was too scared? Trying to protect them for some reason?

“I’ll take care of it.” His voice brooked no argument.

Steve’s pencil went still over the page. Sam mentally hurried to gather arguments about the cost of court, the way justice, especially for humans and minority vamps like himself, was hard enough to get, and if the court found out one of Sharon’s owners was a black vamp, it would be impossible. Instead, Steve gave a slow nod. “Let me know, and I’ll help.”

Sam grinned. “Times like these are why I like you, you know.”

Steve made a face at him. “I’ll just be glad when this damn portrait is done.” With a sigh, he set the sketch on the bedside table and turned off his lamp. “Good morning, Sam.”

“To you to, Steve.”

* * *

The next morning was normal enough. He got ready to go out on yet another job search while Steve hurried off to the gallery and Sharon made herself breakfast and cleaned around the apartment. He sat at the breakfast table longer than necessary, waiting to see what Sharon would do, but other than glancing at him once or twice before starting a new task, she didn’t try to chase him off, nor did she leave on her own.

“Don’t you have errands?” he asked.

“I also have to clean everything,” she said, barely missing a beat.

He eyed her for a moment and shrugged. “Point.”

He waited another fifteen minutes, then fifteen more, but other than the slight way Sharon’s heartbeat sped up whenever she glanced at the clock, she didn’t seem any different than normal. At length, he folded the newspaper and put it aside. “Well. I’d better get going. Don’t want to miss out on that fun-filled futility.”

“Good luck with the job hunt.” Evidently, she was untouched by his grim humor.

He made a face at her and grabbed his coat. Slipping out of the apartment, he forewent the elevator and sped down the stairs. Hitting the street, he slipped around the corner of the building and waited. 

Mere minutes passed before Sharon hurried past him. This time of night, the neighborhood was quiet. All of the jobs were farther in town, and no one at the apartment building could afford to lounge around all day. The result was near-empty streets. Thankfully, Sam didn’t need to follow Sharon based on sight alone. Even if there had been a crowd, he could have followed her scent. There were perks to being a vampire.

The trail of her scent led him toward the market, and he put on more speed. Whoever Sharon had met had helped her carry bags from the market. It stood to reason that she’d meet the person in the market.

He stopped beside a stall. Sharon, required to wear all-white by the Skull’s, was easy to spot. She went to Natasha’s booth and handed over a list. Sam frowned at that; he didn’t remember Steve writing out a list the night before, and he knew he hadn’t written one. 

Natasha read over the list and waved her into the building.

Sam leaned against the wall. He waited. And waited. Natasha reappeared. Sharon didn’t. He frowned and took a step back as he debated what to do next. It wasn’t difficult to realize what he had to do, though. He had to get Sharon out of there.

He straightened and braced himself. Was Natasha beating Sharon herself, or did she have other vampires helping? Oh, no. What if Sharon had arranged for a discount on her food in exchange for... something? Sharon had mentioned human fight clubs when she’d first moved in.

Natasha was running a human fight ring.

“Not used to seeing you around here.”

He knew that voice. Dulcet, slightly conniving and nefarious. Turning, he looked down into Raina’s pleasant, round face. “I’m gainfully unemployed now, so I have time.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Now if you’ll excuse me...”

She took a step to block his way. He had no idea how she moved so quickly in the tight flowered dresses that she wore, nor did he want to think about it too much. “I caught your human trying to use the elevator twice last week.”

Damn it, Sharon.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Sam said, trying to disentangle himself without appearing rude. He didn’t trust Raina any farther than he could throw her, and pissing her off would end badly. “I’ll be sure to remind her of the rules. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Raina lifted an eyebrow. “Just remind her? Really?”

He glared at her, caught himself, and settled on frowning at her. With her heels, she was nearly as tall as he was. “It’s our business, Raina. We’ll handle it.”

This time she let him move past, but he could feel her eyes on him as he moved toward Natasha’s booth. She looked up as he approached. Her eyes widened an iota; he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching so closely. By the time he reached the booth, she was smiling brightly.

“Mr. Wilson. How can I help you?”

He kept his tone quiet. The suspicion of a runaway human would spell ruin for too many of them. If people found out he and Steve had allowed her to join a fight club, had let her get injured, he didn’t doubt the authorities would take her back to the camp. Who knew what would happen to himself and Steve after. “I want Sharon. Now.”

Natasha’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ll have Darcy fetch her. They’ve become friends during her visits here.”

“Good.” Sam moved around the stand. “I’ll go with Darcy, then.”

“That isn’t necessary, Mr. Wilson.”

Sam smiled back, letting his fangs show. In terms of the law, he had no proof that Natasha had harmed Sharon in any way. But Sam felt like making a threat, however small. His human was somewhere in this place, his human who had been coming home with mysterious bruises that she refused to talk about. He didn’t wait for Natasha to invite him in; he moved past her. Inside were tables of fruits and vegetable, string, baskets, bags, and dirt. He took a sniff. Sharon hadn’t been around this dirt. No, her scent led to the rug in the center of the room. He went over and bent to lift it up.

Natasha blocked his path in an instant. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

He glared at her. “Getting Sharon back.” He lifted the rug and got a glimpse of a trap door before the fabric was smacked out of his hands.

Natasha’s eyes promised death. 

“What are you going to do, stake me?” he demanded.

“If I have to.”

Sam glared and pointed a finger at her. “Look, I wasn’t raised to punch a- _shit._ ” Before he realized what had happened, his arm was twisted behind him, and he’d been forced to double-over.

“Make a noise, and I swear to God the only thing Rogers and Sharon will have to comfort them will be whatever dust I can gather from your remains,” Natasha promised. She moved him forward and stomped on the trap door before wrenching him back.

He grunted. “If you hurt Sharon, you really think me dying is going to stop anything I’m gonna do to you?”

The door opened, and the dark-haired girl who served Natasha, Darcy, appeared. Her eyes went large as she took in the scene, and she moved to the side with all the speed she could muster.

Natasha pushed him down into the darkness.

* * *

Steve heard the bell and wiped his fingers on a damp cloth as he moved to the door. When he saw the guards leading Pierce into the gallery, he quickly stepped forward with a smile. There were more bodyguards than on Pierce’s previous visits. He filed that away and held out a hand before faltering. “Actually, you might not want to shake my hand. I’ve been working. It _is_ good to see you again, though.”

Pierce studied Steve’s paint-stained hands and, instead of insisting on a handshake, inclined his head in greeting instead. “I’m not sure you mean that, given how much I’ve asked you to change the portrait design.” 

Steve waved away his concerns. “Nonsense. We both want the portrait to be a success. Working out what will work best is vital to its success. Shall we discuss the latest changes in my office?”

The older vampire smiled. “Actually, I wanted to invite you to the Capitol. I have an introduction I’d like to make.” His smile widened; Steve’s nerves started to hum. “Emperor Schmidt has arrived.”

* * *

Sam was forced to his knees in the center of a room. Sharon’s scent wasn’t as strong here, but it was strong enough that he knew she was down here somewhere. He twisted his head around to glare at Natasha. She ignored it and continued to bend his arm behind his back. There were several people behind her, lining the wall. More stood along the walls on either side, and a few were in front of him as well. He’d never seen such a mix of races gathered together. Only two of them sat, a black man with an eyepatch and a beard, and a white woman, stocky and muscular, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Evidently, they’d been leaning over something on the table before Natasha had dragged him in here. He couldn’t say he was sorry to have distracted them. At least, not without knowing what the hell they were up to. He watched them, knowing they were the power in the room. He could have sworn the woman checked in with the man.

The man spoke. “And you are?”

“Who the hell are you?” Sam shot back.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Natasha said, somehow managing to sound bored. “He owns one of the humans who comes to my shop.” 

“Her name is Sharon,” he snapped. “And I know she’s here, so cut the cabal crap. SHARON!” He leaned toward where he’d last detected her scent and yelled again. “ _SHARON!_ ”

“I think he’s looking for Sharon,” the woman sitting in the front said, her tone dry.

“And if you’ve hurt her,” Sam threatened.

The guy with the eyepatch smirked. “Yeah, because you’re in such a position to do something about it.” He nodded to someone near the doorway. “Go get her. Nat, ease up a little.”

Natasha eased her stance, but her grip on his arm was just as firm as ever.

“Natasha.”

She shrugged. “I’d rather not.”

“Fine. So. Sam, is it? Why are you looking for Sharon?”

Sam’s eyes flashed. He tugged on his arm to test Natasha’s hold to no avail. “Are you kidding me? She’s been coming home with bruises. You think we wouldn’t know somebody’s been hurting her?” He growled at Natasha over his shoulder. “Do you _mind?_ ”

She studied him for several seconds, then looked to the man and back at Sam. “I do, actually.”

Just then, Sam heard familiar footsteps coming down the stone hallway. He exhaled in relief just as Sharon crashed into the room, followed by an older woman who looked even deadlier than Natasha. What the hell had Sharon been up to?

“Sam? Sam, what are you _doing_ here?” She ran over to him, and he blinked in surprise at the smell of sweat, the way her hair hung in damp tendrils around her face. More shocking was how she no longer wore the required white clothing he and Steve had bought for her. He knew every article of clothing they’d bought and how much each one had cost. _None_ of them had been as dark or as form-fitting as the clothes she now wore.

“What- what the hell are _you_ doing?” he demanded, staring at her.

Her cheeks reddened. “Training.” 

She didn’t have her collar on anymore, either. In front of all of these people, all these potential witnesses, she was wearing the wrong clothes _and_ not wearing her collar. Could his head explode from pressure alone? He was going to find out. “Training for _what?_ ” 

Sharon waved a hand in the air uncertainly. “Self-defense training. You know. In case vampires try to get... bitey.”

Sam tried to throw his arms in the air, only for Natasha to press him harder into the ground. “‘ _Bitey?_ ’ That’s what the collar’s for, Sharon!”

She took a step back. “Calm down or I’m going to put garlic in your pillows, I swear to God, Sam.”

He groaned. “Sharon. You have no idea the kind of day I’ve had.”

She set her hands on her hips and watched him, then looked to Natasha, then the man at the front of the room. “They’re a resistance movement,” she said at last. “They don’t like the Skull, neither do I, and I’m helping them. They’re training me so I don’t die doing it.”

This time, the shout of exasperation came from Natasha. “ _Sharon!_ ”

Sam smirked at the floor in front of him. He still couldn’t throw Natasha off of him, but at least he knew she was unhappy. “Now _you’ve_ got some idea what my day has been like.”

Sharon didn’t seem all that perturbed. “What? You were just going to kill him otherwise, right?”

Sam’s head snapped up. “ _What?_ ”

* * *

The drive to the Capitol took longer than Steve expected. He suspected that it wouldn’t have seemed so long if he hadn’t been sitting alone with Pierce in a limousine, making small talk as if everything was normal when nothing - _nothing_ \- about this was normal.

God, was he ever glad vampires couldn’t sweat.

He was also glad he had too much self-control to jump out of the car. Whenever the temptation struck, he reminded himself how much he, Sam, and Sharon needed this money. This money meant Sharon’s safety and Sam having a roof over his head. Steve had sworn to protect them. And that was what he would do, even if it meant making a deal with the devil himself.

Which might not be far from what he was doing, now that he thought about it.

As they pulled up to the Capitol, he fought to keep his movements slow and unpanicked as he got out of the car. The guards were watching him, and he didn’t want to send up any red flags.

“Have you ever been here before?” Pierce asked, pausing to stand beside him. Together, they looked up at the large, imposing building in front of them, white marble stretching upwards and nearly as far as the eye could see in either direction.

“No, sir.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Steve nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

It truth, the building was an ugly block, reminiscent of the buildings Hitler had built before the Skull had taken over. Such buildings had been designed to reflect the strength of the nation, though not its art or soul. Here, the only hint of the country’s history was in marble pillars wrapping around the building, evoking the neo-classical style of the White House and other national monuments. Washington, DC, its buildings, and its history had been destroyed when the Skull’s forces swept through the country. He had declared that it was time for a new history. Secretly, Steve thought it was because the Skull feared what the mere idea of freedom might spur people to do. 

Pierce led the way to the front entrance, and Steve fell into step slightly behind him. He wondered if this was how Sam felt, having to walk a little behind and to the side of him whenever they went out together. Jesus. It was like a dog on a leash, wasn’t it?

“So there aren’t any windows?” he asked. “None at all?”

“A security precaution. Also a matter of aesthetic. The building is designed to reflect the strength of the empire.” Uh-huh. Sure. “Emperor Schmidt made allowances for the viewing balcony on the north side of the building so that his subjects can view him when he deems it necessary. I hope you don’t disapprove?”

“Oh, no,” Steve said quickly. “Nothing of the sort. I was just thinking of how to incorporate light into the painting.”

Pierce stopped before an intimidatingly tall door flanked by guards and smiled. “Emperor Schmidt already has that worked out.”

* * *

“You aren’t in a position to make a call like that,” Eyepatch said.

“I am, though,” Sharon disagreed. She almost sounded as bored as Natasha had earlier. “You haven’t fixed the plants yet. Darcy and Daisy don’t know how to do it on their own. And you only want me to get information out of Steve, right? If not for the plants, I wouldn’t be here at all, but if not for the Steve and the Skull, you wouldn’t be training me so I’ll be prepared if things go wrong.” She pointed at Sam. “And he’s closer to Steve than anybody. And he used to work at the docks, so he can probably tell you loads of stuff about transport or something. Unless you kill him, I mean.”

The next several seconds passed silently, save from a grunt from Sam as Natasha leaned against him.

“Nat, you might have taught her too well in some things,” Eyepatch muttered.

“She’s a quick study.”

“Let him up, but don’t let him go.”

Sam found himself pulled to his feet. This time, he managed not to grunt.

“So. Sam, is it?” Sam glared at him, and Eyepatch nodded. “You have any interest in killing the Skull?”

Sam looked from him to Sharon and back again. “You really have to ask?”

Instead of taking that as the badass affirmative he’d meant it to be, Eyepatch nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. “I can’t get a job because of that asshole. The only job I ever had I lost. Steve’s got to take on a job he hates to make ends meet. We’ve got inspectors breathing down our necks because we adopted his girlfriend’s great-niece and said ‘adopted’ instead of ‘bought.’ Oh. And _somebody_ got caught trying to take the elevator last week.” Sharon glanced away guiltily. At least she knew she wasn’t going to get away with that. Good. “So yeah. If we can kill the fucker before he kills us, that’d be great.”

Eyepatch raised an eyebrow. “And if he kills you first?”

Sam hesitated. “Then you’ve gotta make sure Sharon’s safe. Steve promised to take care of her, and so did I.”

Slowly, Eyepatch nodded. “Good enough. Let’s talk.”

Natasha let go of Sam’s arm, and he sat back on his feet to rub his arm. Jesus, that felt better.

Sharon cleared her throat. “Do I have to be here for that? Or can I go work on the plants?”

The woman who had followed her in shook her head. “No. You’re going back to training. You’re still sloppy.”

Sharon groaned. She hesitated and looked to Sam. She thought for a moment, then looked to Eyepatch. “You’d better not hurt him,” she warned.

Eyepatch held up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sharon didn’t seem convinced, but she still followed the woman out of the room.

Sam watched them go, still rubbing his hand. “We both know that’s a lie,” he said conversationally. He turned to Eyepatch. “Her bruises are from training? She’s really learning self-defense?”

“Yeah. She won’t be able to fend off a vamp, but she might be able to defend herself against another human. May’s a pretty strict teacher. Now.” He kicked a chair out from the table with a foot. “Come here and tell us about your friend and his access to the Skull.”

* * *

The lights were turned down low in the hall. Chandeliers hung far overhead, casting long shadows of the guards lining the walkway ahead. On the far side of the room was a towering stone throne with a figure sitting on it. Steve tried not to stare and found himself looking behind the throne to the stairs that led to the balcony level. Thick curtains opened to reveal tall windows, stars twinkling faintly on the other side. His entire apartment building could fit in this one room.

Pierce set a steady pace forward. When he was twenty feet from the throne, he dropped into a low bow; Steve followed suit. Pierce spoke in German, and Steve was glad he’d reviewed his language books when he’d found out about the commission. “Emperor Schmidt, may I present to you Steve Rogers, the vampire who has been commissioned to create your anniversary portrait.”

The figure on the throne shifted. “Come closer.”

Steve forced himself to step forward. He could do this. For Sam. For Sharon. 

“Have you ever seen me in person, Mr. Rogers?”

He paused long enough to mentally translate into German. It was barely a second, and he hoped no one thought the pause too long. “No, Emperor Schmidt. I have not been allowed the honor.”

There was something like a chuckle, and the figure leaned forward into the light. If Steve had still possessed a pulse, his heart might have skipped a beat. Descriptions alone couldn’t have prepared him for what he now faced. The skin had been stripped away from his face, leaving only the bloody muscles underneath. Steve had heard Schmidt referred to as the Skull for decades, but he had always thought the nickname was a result of the Skull’s insignia. Pictures of the Skull were rare, and Steve could see why. A face like that could terrify even other vampires. Oddly, though, he’d never heard of the Skull looking like _this._ Surely someone would have mentioned it.

“And now that you are allowed the honor, Mr. Rogers? What do you think?”

“I am glad to be allowed the honor.” Steve smiled. “Would you like to discuss plans for your portrait?”

The Skull smiled thinly, and Steve tried not to stare as the muscles moved. “I have already planned my portrait,” he said firmly. “You will paint me here, sitting on my throne. A symbol of my strength and power, yes?”

Steve nodded. “Quite so.” He stood back and moved from side to side, stooping to see with angle worked best. It didn’t escape his notice that the guards tensed whenever he got near them.

The Skull shook his head. “It will be straight on.” He pointed at the spot where Steve had first greeted him. “From there. Will that offend your artistic sensibilities, painter?”

“Not at all,” Steve said as obligingly as he could. Sam and Sharon. Sam and Sharon. “You have commissioned me, Emperor Schmidt. I paint what you want me to.”

The Skull made a sound of assent. “Yes, you do. And you may call me ‘Herr Schmidt.’ No need to stand on ceremony with me. I am not so intimidating as my buildings would have you believe, yes?”

“Of course. I would be honored, Herr Schmidt.” Sam and Sharon.

The Skull nodded. “Bring your supplies tomorrow. Counselor Pierce tells me you have a human. Will you have need of her assistance?” 

“No, Herr Schmidt. Her skills lie with housework, not art.”

The Skull considered. “Bring her anyway. I would not have you wanting anything while you are here.” Decided, he settled back on his throne.

“Of course, Herr Schmidt.”

“We will do as you command,” Pierce said with cloying cheer. “Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra,” Steve echoed. He followed Pierce’s cue to bow, then followed Pierce out of the room. It was a struggle not to leap into the back of the car.

As he fell into small talk with Pierce again over plans for the next day, he couldn’t help but feel he was about to walk into a trap.


	8. Portrait

“I can’t believe you never told us you were a part of a resistance movement,” Sam murmured quietly as they walked back home.

Sharon, who had been distracted enough by Sam’s presence that May had thrown her around like a rag doll, moved slowly and gingerly. She knew she’d have a new collection of bruises that night and couldn’t wait to soak in the tub. May had given her some special salts with directions on how to use it to help her bruises fade. Sam had promised to get her some ice, too, but personally, she thought it would help more if he helped her to carry the bags. Of course, thanks to the rules, and possible witnesses - damn Raina to _hell_ \- he couldn’t. “I couldn’t say anything. They trusted me not to.” And Sam and Steve were vampires. She was a human. Most of the resistance was formed of people the Skull would kill without a second thought. As nice as Steve and Sam were, as much as she might like them, she still couldn’t trust them completely. They owned her, they fed from her. As much as they seemed to care about her, it could only ever go so far. Vampires, at the end of the day, were vampires. She couldn’t risk other people’s safety by trusting them too much.

“And you learned to write? How’d you learn how to write? Steve didn’t mention teaching you that.”

“I taught myself,” she said, trying to sound humble and failing. 

He bumped her shoulder. “You’re getting an ego.” He lifted his head, made sure no one was close enough to hear, and lowered his voice. “But you shouldn’t. Miss I-Tried-To-Take-The-Elevator.”

Sharon groaned. “I really don’t like her. I don’t care if she’s pretty and wears pretty dresses.”

Sam stopped short. “You think Raina’s pretty?”

“She is.” Sharon frowned at him as he grinned and shifted the bags. “What?” At least they were almost home and she could put the bags down and start cooking dinner.

“Nothing.” His grin widened.

She stared at him in incomprehension. “What?”

“Nothing.” He walked ahead to hold open the door to their building. “So what do we tell Steve?”

She stopped and glared at him. “ _Nothing._ ”

Sam’s grin disappeared. “We can’t just not tell him, Sharon. This is big. We do things together, understand? Steve and I have always done everything together.”

She shook her head viciously. “ _No._ He’s painting the Skull’s portrait. He’s going to be around the Skull a lot. And he’s going to have to talk a lot. He’s not good at lying.” And even if he were, she wasn’t as convinced Steve would be as willing to help the resistance as Sam was. After all, Steve was the one who freaked out when Sam had danced with her that day. Steve was the one who reminded her to wear her collar. Sam was the one who had likely lost his job because of the Skull; Steve had _gained_ a job because of the Skull. “Besides, he freaks out whenever he thinks we broke some stupid rule. He can’t know.”

Sam didn’t seem convinced. Instead of answering, though, he looked to the elevator doors and said, “I’ll see you up there.”

Sharon humphed as he got on the elevator, leaving her to trudge slowly up the stairs on her own. She walked up flight after flight, her muscles screaming with each step, and groaned as she finally reached the door. Sam opened it for her and quickly relieved her of the bags as she stepped inside. She frowned as she saw one of her fanciest dresses hanging beside the bathroom. She looked from Sam to Steve curiously, and her heart fell as she saw how dour Steve was. “What happened?”

“I met Emperor Schmidt today,” Steve said carefully. “I’m to start painting his portrait tomorrow. He already has it all planned. He wants you to come with me. I pulled out one of your dresses that I think will work. I hope you don’t mind - I was feeling restless and there wasn’t enough to do around here.”

She studied the dress. She hadn’t seen it since her first day in the apartment, and now that she looked at it again, she couldn’t believe she had almost forgotten it. The bows and lace were atrocious. “Uh, no. I don’t mind.” She glanced at him. “None of the others worked? You’re sure?”

He studied the dress. “That’s the only fancy one you have that won’t make you look like a doll,” he admitted. “Well, more of one. The- Herr Schmidt has old-fashioned tastes.”

She bit her lip and turned her eyes back to the dress. “Are we calling him Herr Schmidt now?”

“I am. I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to speak to him at all. If you have to talk to him, call him Emperor Schmidt. Act humble.” His full gaze focused on her. “I mean it, Sharon. Humble.”

She made a face.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “She might need help with that.”

“She’ll need to learn how to help me with my art supplies, too,” Steve said, sounded tired. “The-” He sighed and rubbed his temples as he caught himself again. “ _Herr_ Schmidt wants her to help me, so she might be asked to do something to prove she can.” He studied her for a moment. “How fast can you take a bath? No offense, but you...”

“Reek,” Sam finished.

She glared at them both. Natasha had advised her to tell the truth as much as possible when she lied. “I had to drag those bags all the way from the market!” she said defensively. “And up the stairs!”

Steve shook his head. “Sorry you had to do that. But can you try and take a quick bath anyway? We’ve got a lot to go over before tomorrow.”

Sharon groaned and headed into the bathroom. Her hopes of a long bath and an early bedtime were fading before her eyes. She didn’t think she’d hated the Skull this much since finding out what he’d done to Aunt Peggy.

* * *

Sharon was groggy and stiff when she woke the next morning. Sam offered her a pitying look, but there was little more that he could do. She groaned as Steve asked if he could feed from her. She wondered if they would ever realize that she wasn’t in any position to say no. She was almost tempted to say no then, just to see what they would do, but after taking a breath, she had to admit to herself that she understood why he wanted to drink from her. He needed to be at his best while he worked for the Skull.

In the end, it wasn’t Steve’s needs, but those of Darcy’s and Daisy’s and May’s that made her grudgingly tilt her head. Steve thanked her after, as always, and she stumbled to the bathroom to get ready. Meeting the Skull called for makeup, and it took her longer than she cared to admit to remember how to apply most of it. Sam and Steve had never seemed to care whether she wore any or not. In some ways, she thought, they really were nice...

Maybe, just maybe, she _should_ tell Steve what she was doing with the resistance. She quickly quelled the thought. There was no way she could tell him right before they met the Skull. He’d never be able to behave normally around him. 

Done with her makeup at last, she trudged outside again to find a large breakfast ready and waiting. Sam, washing dishes in the kitchen, looked up when she entered and nodded to the food. “You look like you could use some energy.”

“You have no idea. Thanks.” She sat and dug in gratefully. Sausage, bacon, toast, eggs, orange juice, even milk. She moaned a little as she bit into the sausage. Food was definitely helping.

She felt a tug on her hair and tensed. She preferred not to wear her collar until she absolutely had to.

“It’s okay,” Steve assured her quickly. “I just think we need to do more with your hair if we’re seeing Herr Schmidt.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came out with a brush and a box of metal sticks. She looked at them curiously, and he obligingly held one up. “Bobby pins.” He gathered her hair in a hand and began to brush it. He worked gently enough that after a moment, she continued eating.

“Have you really never seen bobby pins before?” he asked. He spoke in a tone she recognized; he had started using it to hide his incredulity that she didn’t know something commonplace.

She shrugged. “Hair got long enough to get in our way, we just cut it. Didn’t have time to do our hair. Didn’t see much point in it, either.”

He didn’t respond to that, but a couple minutes later stepped back. “I think that’ll do.”

Sam leaned over the kitchen counter. “Do I really want to know how you learned to style a woman’s hair?”

Steve disappeared into the bathroom with the brush and pins. “My mom was sick when I was growing up. Too weak to do her own hair most of the time, and we couldn’t afford a hairdresser. I picked up a couple tricks”

Sharon cleaned off her plate and carried it into the kitchen. She paused before she put it in the sink. “Is there more?” If she had to put up with the Skull, she was going to need as much energy as she could get. 

Sam shook his head at her. “How about some cereal?” He took the plate from her. “And let me wash this. I can’t imagine how much Steve is going to panic if you get something on that dress.”

“I wouldn’t panic,” Steve called from the living room. “I’d just- I don’t know... I wouldn’t panic, though.”

Sharon sighed and put on one of her aprons, careful not to crush the dress. She rolled her eyes to Sam before fixing herself some cereal and heading out to the table again. It didn’t take long to brush her teeth after she was done, either. Lastly, when she didn’t think she could put it off any longer, she put on the collar.

And then nothing.

She looked to Steve, then Sam and back again. “What time are they picking us up?”

Steve sat in his lounge chair, a book on Ancient Rome open on his knee. His eyes didn’t rise from it as he said, “They didn’t specify. It’s a way to show us who’s in control.”

She glanced wistfully at the bed.

Still not looking up, Steve said, “You can’t lie down. You’ll mess up your hair, and we don’t know when they’ll be here.”

Sharon groaned. After looking around the apartment for several seconds, she walked over to his art case and opened it carefully. She wasn’t allowed to get her dress dirty, which meant cleaning was out of the question. Instead, she mentally reviewed as much as she could from the night before.

Steve set his book aside. “You’re right. We might as well make sure you know as much as possible before they come.”

They spent the next hour and a half with Steve teaching Sharon about art supplies and different art movements, both of them not wanting to admit they were slowly getting more nervous about meeting with the Skull.

* * *

Sharon’s head was spinning with Michaelangelo, Raphael, and Degas when Steve and Sam tensed and looked to the door. Steve was little more than a blur as he packed up his art case and slid the art books back onto the shelves. He stopped to stand beside his chair and gave Sharon a nod.

Honestly, why did the vampires make the humans clean everything when they could do it in a fraction of the time? 

Not that she could say so _now._ She went to the door and opened it with a curtsy. “Hello. Welcome to my master’s house. What may I do for you on his behalf?” She reminded herself to act humble and looked up through her lashes to meet Pierce’s eyes. She wasn’t sure she was any happier to see Rumlow, but she offered him a small grin nonetheless. It wouldn’t do to offend either of them.

“Very good,” Pierce said with a smile. He stepped inside. “I’m here to see your master about an appointment.” He nodded to Steve. “Good to see you again, Rogers. Are you ready to go?”

“Of course.” Steve nodded and glanced at Sam in the kitchen, out of sight of the door. He didn’t say good-bye, though, merely followed Pierce out the door.

Sharon looked in Sam’s direction, but before she could say anything, he poked his head out of the kitchen and waved her quickly out the door. She frowned but stepped outside. Rumlow fell into step with her.

“We get to take the elevator today,” he told her conspiratorially. “I got us clearance.”

Snitching on humans earned him all sorts of perks, didn’t it?

She pasted on a smile. “That’s great. These are nicer shoes than I usually wear, and I wouldn’t want to risk them.” Or her feet. Steve had done something to them to make the soles softer, but she doubted she’d enjoy climbing the stairs in them.

Rumlow grinned at her. “They look great on you, if that helps. Being owned suits you.”

Keep smiling, damn it. “Thank you.” She followed Steve onto the elevator, and he moved aside so she could stand behind him. She glanced at him but stopped herself before she let her face betray her thoughts.

Rumlow stood beside her. Sharon didn’t try to speak, and she was relieved when he didn’t, either. Meanwhile, Steve and Pierce chatted pleasantly about everything from the weather to the condition of the roads. If she was going to have to listen to this all the way to wherever they were going... Well. At least it was better than talking to Rumlow.

Downstairs, two cars waited for them. One was a long one, a limousine like the one she’d first ridden when she’d left camp; the other was smaller and had only four seats. Two guards waited at each. Sharon glanced at Steve again, but he seemed to ignore her entirely. 

A guard opened the door to the limousine, and Pierce slid inside, followed closely by Steve. Rumlow walked to the second car and held the door open for Sharon. She reminded herself how much depended on this going well and slipped inside as gracefully as she could. The car had less space than the limousine, and she moved as far away from Rumlow as she could without seeming rude.

Rumlow dropped into the seat beside her and flashed her a grin. “Cozy, right?”

She answered with a weak grin of her own. “That’s a good way of saying it.” Why was she suddenly so glad to be wearing her collar? Why was she suddenly so relieved to have some sign that she was under someone’s protection?

And they hadn’t even seen the Skull yet.

* * *

Steve was careful to look unconcerned when they stopped in front of the building. He’d been listening to Sharon’s car behind him as closely as he could, but the sounds of the engine were too loud to keep track of her heartbeat. It surprised him to realize how much he’d come to rely on the sound as an indication of how she was feeling. He was also getting alarmingly familiar, maybe even reliant, on hearing that heartbeat. Hearing it now, the thought occurred to him that her heartbeat had become a source of comfort for him.

Not that he could think about that now. 

Without looking back at her, he followed Pierce inside. He didn’t look back at Sharon; it was easy enough to track Sharon and Rumlow by the sounds they made, despite the guards lining either side of the aisle. Steve had the uneasy feeling that they were waiting for him to do something stupid.

As before, Pierce led the way to the throne room. Steve had sent over a canvas and easel from his gallery the night before; both were set up for him on the far end of the room. He set his box of supplies on the table beside it. He noticed that once he was in place, Pierce melted into the shadows. He hoped that wasn’t as bad a sign as he suspected.

“You do not allow your human to carry your materials?” Schmidt asked. He sat on the throne as he had before, though this time he had a pile of papers on his knee. The light was low enough that Sharon must not have seen him; at the sound of his voice, her heartbeat spiked.

The Skull leaned forward to inspect her; Steve saw that today, the Skull wore a mask that almost made him look like a normal vampire.

Steve glanced at her, then flicked his eyes slowly enough for her to see to a spot beside his easel. She quickly stepped into place, and he could only imagine that Schmidt and his guards were unsettling her more than they did him. “She lacks the upper body strength to carry all of them at once without humiliating herself.” he explained. He hoped Sharon forgave him for the remark; he couldn’t afford to undersell the part. “She’s adequate in other respects.” He bowed his head. “Herr Schmidt. It’s good to see you again.”

Schmidt nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting but otherwise ignored it. “Hm.” He didn’t seem convinced, and Steve forced himself to focus on sharpening his pencil. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Sharon’s eyes narrowed at Schmidt. Steve had already ascertained that she didn’t know any German except for a few curse words and commands that she’d learned at Camp Lehigh. Her heartbeat was a little hurried, too, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear about why Schmidt was looking at her, or if she was affronted somehow. He hoped she hadn’t noticed anything that could get her hackles up; she didn’t seem able to keep her mouth at times like those.

He wished he could remind her to act humble. “She isn’t,” he said with a faintly warning look as he pretended to appraise her. “But she’s good enough at keeping house, and her blood is good.”

Schmidt made a thoughtful sound deep in his throat. “Yes, I’ve found the younger ones are better for that. The older ones start to taste dusty after a while. I imagine it is what death tastes like. I will never understand how you fed from that Carter whore for so long.”

Sharon’s heart jumped, and her fists clenched. She’d recognized Peggy’s last name. Damn it.

Of course, maybe that had been Schmidt’s intention all along. Some of Pierce’s questions in the car had made Steve wonder if he was still poking around in Steve’s life. Separating him from Sharon as Pierce had done in the interview before certainly didn’t help appease that idea.

He took a breath. He fought to keep his tone calm, neutral. Something that would keep Sharon from doing anything rash and would also make Schmidt believe that Steve had only thought of Peggy in a flippant way. “It wasn’t bad until those last few months,” he admitted. “She was still fun to mess with at first, but eventually I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

He didn’t look at Schmidt, instead stepping back from the canvas to eye the proportions of the room and the canvas. He wasn’t a good liar. He knew he wasn’t; even Sharon teased him about it. But if he wanted to keep Sam and Sharon safe, he had to convince Schmidt he meant what he said.

“I amuse myself sometimes in thinking how ugly she must have been before she finally managed to kill herself,” Schmidt said thoughtfully. “I did not see her until after, but it was all very gruesome. She never had any skill when it came to accomplishing her goals.” His smile was more of a sneer. “Perhaps she killed herself by accident.”

Steve kept his face neutral. It was unlikely that Peggy would ever kill herself. Even if she’d wanted to, she’d been too weak toward the end. And if she’d found the strength, there were so few ways she could have done it. Peggy had been a fighter all her life; the only reason she would ever have killed herself would be to deprive the Skull of killing her himself.

It was far more likely she had merely died of old age, and the Skull only wanted to get a rise out of him. He couldn’t rise to the bait.

“Good riddance to her,” he said as he began sketching the room. “She was useless in the end.”

Schmidt made another thoughtful sound.

Looking at him, Steve said, “It’s best to do the background work first. As busy as you are, there’s really no need for you to pose until I’m much closer to finished, Herr Schmidt.”

“I enjoy watching you work, Herr Rogers. Please continue.” Schmidt seemed to focus again on the papers, but Steve could have sworn that for just a moment, his eyes bore into Sharon.

* * *

If he hadn’t felt so bad for her, he would have laughed at the mournful expression she cast his way as she moved to the stairs. As it was, he couldn’t suppress his grin when he got off the elevator and waited for her to join him. Right before he was about to go to the stairwell to see if she was all right, the door opened, and she limped carefully through the doorway. He grinned again but didn’t say anything. Too many vampires were around, and he didn’t want them reporting to Schmidt that he was uncommonly kind to his human.

Sam opened the door once they were closer and stepped aside to let them both in. He closed the door quietly and looked at Steve as Sharon kicked off her shoes with a groan. “You kids had fun, then?”

Sharon groaned even louder. She pulled off her collar, picked up her shoes, and disappeared into her room. 

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned against the dining room table. He crossed his arms. “She didn’t get to do anything. Even when I asked her to hand me something, Herr Schmidt suggested I get it myself.”

Sam frowned. “Then why have her there at all?”

He shrugged, then hesitated. “If it weren’t for the commission, I’d say they were still suspicious. Herr Schmidt has had guards both times I’ve been there; more than he needs, surely. He asked about Sharon, too, and her capabilities. And they put Sharon in a separate car with that human guy again. Pierce asked a couple questions, nothing too invasive. But Herr Schmidt asked about Peggy. Called her a whore.”

Sam hissed. “You okay? How’d Sharon take it?”

Steve managed a grin. “It was all in German. She didn’t understand much of it.”

“I understood _enough_ of it,” Sharon argued. She wore her nightgown already, and her hair fell loosely to her shoulders. Steve had to wonder if one of the reasons humans were required to wear the required clothes was because it made them look soft and vulnerable. It certainly worked for Sharon.

“Don’t you want to take a bath first?” Steve asked. He wouldn’t push if she insisted, but all of the books had agreed that humans needed a regular schedule.

She glared at him and disappeared into the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake that long. What did the Skull say about Peggy?”

“Herr Schmidt,” Steve corrected.

Both Sharon and Sam froze before turning to look at him. “Oh. Are we calling him _that_ now?” Sam asked.

Steve managed a shrug. “I need to stay in the habit of calling him something that won’t offend him. Not thinking of him as the- as anything but Herr Schmidt would help.”

Sharon and Sam looked at each other, and Steve frowned. He knew he’d missed out on a lot while he’d been working on the commission, but the two of them seemed to have worked out some sort of connection while he was away, a connection that he wasn’t a part of.

She dropped her head and hastily pulled out a butter knife. She turned to gather bread and some ingredients from the fridge. “So what did he say about her?”

“Nothing nice,” Steve said, watching her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was hiding something from him. Come to think of it, Sam hadn’t said anything about the mystery person whose scent had been on her shopping bags. But Sam would never hide anything from him. It all must have amounted to nothing. “I think he was trying to get a rise out of me. You did well today, by the way.”

She managed a small grin, then groaned again and rolled her head on her neck. “And I’m taking advantage. I’m going to bed after I eat this.”

“I’d say you deserved it.” Steve was more than a little tired himself. “Schmidt said you don’t have to come tomorrow.” Actually, he had said that humans were disgusting creatures whom he had no desire to see more often than necessary, but it came to the same thing.

While she ate and Sam tidied up the kitchen, he changed into his pajamas.

Sharon managed to scrub the makeup from her face and brush her teeth before she fell into the bed. She was asleep before she’d even managed to crawl under the covers.

Steve gently tucked her in. She was a lighter sleeper than either himself or Sam; he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given that her body’s sleep function wasn’t dictated by the sun, but she didn’t move as he pulled the covers to her shoulders.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he mused.

Sam looked up, and Steve frowned as he saw the look of alarm in Sam’s face. But it was quickly gone, and Steve had to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.

“If our sire dies, everyone that person sired dies. We sleep like the dead during the day.” He studied Sharon for a moment before tucking her in more securely. She didn’t stir. “I don’t know. It just seems that being a vampire isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You’d rather be a human?” Sam said. His tone was gently mocking. “In this day and age?”

Steve made a face. “No. But I remember being happy as a kid. I didn’t have a lot to be happy about, but I was still... I felt whole, I guess. More than I do now.”

Sam’s features softened. Had he wondered the same thing?

“Things seemed to matter more,” Steve said, trying to explain again. This time, Sam nodded. “It’s like being a vampire is more of a half-life. Like it’s just the same thing all the time. It gets old.” He looked to Sam. “And of all the vampires I’ve met, sometimes I think you and I are the happiest ones.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a scary thought.”

Steve nodded somberly, but a hint of jest snuck into his tone. After all, he meant it. Without Sam to live with, Steve wasn’t sure how he would have survived the past couple of decades. “You see why I’m concerned.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Are you going to bed or not? Because I was getting used to the silence around here.”

Steve’s eyes wandered toward Sharon. Her heartbeat was a quiet constant throughout the apartment. As long as she was there, the apartment would never be silent. “I can sign,” he suggested. “From bed, if I have to.” To demonstrate, he backed up to draw level with the bed, throwing rude gestures at Sam with his hands the whole time.

Sam snorted. “Now I’m going to ground you. You know that, right? For the high crime of being an asshole.”

Chuckling, Steve turned off his bedside light. “Whatever you say, _Mom._ ”

Sam turned off the other lights in the apartment and crawled into bed on Sharon’s other side. “Just for that, I’m gonna do something you hate.” There was a half-breath, as if Sam were gathering air to speak again, but there was nothing but silence. As Steve’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was that Sam’s face was frozen, his mouth still open as if about to say something.

“Sam?”

Sam shook himself, and his face relaxed. “Good morning, Steve.” He rolled onto his other side.

Steve wondered what the hell was going on. But in the darkness, silent but for Sharon’s heartbeat, there was no answer.


	9. Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the Ball arrives; bloodshed ensues.

The commission changed the daily schedule in the apartment. Now, instead of Steve and Sam getting ready for work in minutes while Sharon did her chores, Sharon ate breakfast while Steve got ready and Sam read the paper, then did her chores while Steve read the paper and Sam got ready to pretend to go job-hunting. After Steve left, Sam and Sharon went to the market. All in all, their mornings were leisurely. If they hadn’t been so concerned about the Skull’s intentions toward Steve, they might have found the new arrangement enjoyable.

There was no way of knowing when Pierce would swing by to pick up Steve; some days it would be an hour after sunset, others Sharon could be eating lunch, waiting to open the door for Pierce, and Steve would still be sitting in his chair, trying to concentrate on a book.

Too many days, Steve walked into the apartment, and then his face would fall. If Sharon hadn’t come to know him as well as she did, she would have said he was angry. He would nod to both her and Sam and then go to the roof. Sam would follow him up, and Steve was always in a better mood when he came down.

Their routine shifted again when Sam started manning the art gallery. Steve wouldn’t get paid for the portrait until it was completed, but the Skull was forcing things to go at a snail’s pace, and then every time Steve made progress on the portrait, the Skull changed his mind about what he wanted. Sam took on the task of selling the paintings that Steve did first thing at night or last thing before morning. 

Sharon was left to go to Natasha’s alone. She missed Sam’s company, but the chamomile finally arrived to distract her. Other things distracted her, too, of course. May and Natasha never eased up on her training, and they added lessons from Trip in using stakes an axe blades. When she asked why she had to learn it all, May and Natasha only looked at each other and then resumed her training.

The pain of training was worth getting away from the radios that followed her everywhere aboveground. Emperor Schmidt had announced that a series of balls was to be held to commemorate his anniversary tour. The first was to be held in the Capitol; all vampires were required to buy a ticket, and any who owned humans of their own were expected to pay for them to come as well. Schmidt’s visit became all anyone could talk about. The radio showered him with praise, and she heard vampires on the street talking about how best to ingratiate themselves to him. Sharon spotted Raina looking even smugger than usual and wondered what Raina thought would happen as a result of the Skull’s visit. She doubted the Skull would be impressed by Raina, no matter how pretty she was. She’d lived outside of the camp enough to know how the Skull treated vampires who weren’t white.

Still, of the three of them, Sharon thought she had the best deal. Sam spent all night at Steve’s gallery, usually alone and miserable, and Steve spent all night at the Skull’s beck and call and pretending that he didn’t mind.

* * *

Steve closed the door behind him and rubbed his eyes. But closing his eyes only made him feel worse; it made the radio all the louder. A patriotic song, reminiscent of the German national anthem, was on the air at the moment. Given the programming of the last few weeks, Steve guessed that another song reminiscent of the German national anthem would be next

“Bad day at work?” Sam asked. He sat with Sharon at the table, their heads bent over one of Steve’s books. 

Steve nodded. “The good news is that I got free tickets to the ball.”

Sam made a face. “Yeah, that sounds like _great_ news. I can’t wait to dust off my tux.”

Steve shook his head. “You didn’t get a ticket. Sorry.”

Sam snorted and waved a flippant hand. “Yeah, I’m not. Not really. But let me guess. I still have to pay for a ticket even though they don’t want me there, right?”

Looking abashed, Steve didn’t say anything.

“Do I have to go?” Sharon asked,

Steve nodded. “Afraid so.” He looked at Sam. Sharon would need a new dress for the ball; her nicest dress wasn’t nice enough. And they had never anticipated the expenses for a ball when they had taken her in. Now that they had lost Sam’s income and Steve wasn’t getting paid, their funds were dwindling.

Sam stared back, comprehending Steve’s thoughts soon enough. He groaned. “New collar.”

 _Crap._ “I was thinking new dress,” Steve admitted.

Sam groaned again.

“We can try to sell those horrible shoes?” Sharon suggested hopefully.

* * *

“You’re quiet,” Natasha said.

Sharon eyed her quickly and blinked as she tried to remember if Natasha had asked her something. Natasha was an extremely patient teacher, but she wasn’t exactly forgiving of people slacking off. “Did we cover that?” she asked at last.

Natasha’s lips twitched the faintest bit. “Good think I didn’t ask if you were paying attention. So what’s bothering you? Maybe I can help.”

Sharon grunted. “It’s the ball,” she admitted. “Steve and I have to go, and Steve and Sam are upset because we have to buy a new dress.”

Natasha blinked at her. “That’s it?”

Sharon shrugged. “No. I also need a new collar.”

The vampire looked at Sharon’s simple collar and hummed.

“And maybe new shoes,” Sharon grudgingly admitted.

“And dance lessons,” Natasha added. “The Skull prefers older dances. There might be complicated steps.” She leaned back and looked Sharon over. “It’s okay, though. I’ll fairy godmother you.”

Sharon made a face. “Fairy godmother?”

“You kids these days know absolutely nothing.”

Sharon stuck her tongue out but didn’t bother denying it.

* * *

Two nights later, Steve and Sam both tensed and looked to the door. Sharon had only just had time to notice their behavior when there was a knock at the apartment door. Sharon looked at the other two, and Sam hurried to the kitchen while Steve rushed to put away the painting he was working on. The commission with the Skull had been going on long enough that they had gotten lax about getting ready early at night. Pierce never seemed to arrive before an hour after nightfall.

When the apartment was presentable, Steve nodded to Sharon. She started for the door, only for Sam to stop her and enclose the collar around her neck. In a flash, he was in the kitchen again, and Sharon threw open the door and quickly stepped aside to let Pierce in while she humbly spoke the customary phrase.

Nothing happened, and after a moment, Sharon looked up.

Natasha stared at her as if she had never seen Sharon before. She roused herself and stepped inside. “Right. I’m not actually here for him, though.” She held up her arms to show the white dress she’d brought. “I brought this for you to try on.” She looked behind Sharon, her features instantly becoming more closed-off. “You must be her master. Steve Rogers, right? I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sharon mentioned she needed a dress, and I’ve got a friend who isn’t using this one. Mind if she tries it on?”

Steve glanced at the clock. “I think we’ve got time.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

Natasha shook his hand without dropping the dress. “Likewise.” She passed the dress to Sharon. “Let me know if you need help.” She held a bag out. “Those, too.”

Sharon grabbed the dress and the bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

Looking him over curiously, Natasha asked, “Time before what?”

Sam, reemerged from the kitchen, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Steve’s doing a commission for Emperor Schmidt. One of the Emperor’s counsellors, Pierce, picks him up each day. We thought you were him at first. But he doesn’t usually come this early.”

“We have at least half an hour to ourselves,” Steve confirmed, his tone still formal with the stranger. He waved his hand to the dining room table. “Would you like to have a seat? Thank you for your help with the dress.”

Natasha smiled as she sat. Sam sat next. Steve took the chair across from Natasha and beside Sam. “I just hope it works out. I think it was very brave of you to buy a human when you work in... art, I think Sharon said?”

Steve nodded, trying not to appear as uncomfortable with the conversation as he felt. He’d almost gotten comfortable with Pierce’s questions, but he wasn’t used to it from other vampires as well.

Fortunately, it was then that Sharon stepped out. There must have been a pair of heels in the bag; with them, she was nearly as tall as he was. Despite her added height, the flaired skirt of the dress trailed to brush along the floor. The dress was cinched at the waist with short sleeves hanging off her shoulders. The cut was low to show off her chest, and it occurred to him absently that she wasn’t as flat as she had been months before. If he hadn’t known that the dress had come from someone else, he would have said the dress had been made for her.

He hated that he thought it made her look as pretty as it did. Not that “pretty” did her justice, but it was as far as Steve wanted to go. Thinking about it couldn’t be appropriate. Or wise.

“How does the collar look?”

Steve looked at Natasha in surprise, then back to Sharon. It occurred to him once again that he had no real idea what Sharon did while he was at work all day, if she had friends or not. He remembered that Sam had said he would look into some scent on Sharon’s bags that had troubled him, but it had come to nothing. But then, as suspicious of other vamps as Sam was, he had sat at the table with Natasha almost immediately.

Something was going on. What weren’t they telling him?

* * *

Natasha returned weeks later to help Sharon get ready for the ball. Steve still hadn’t figured out what was going on between her, Sharon, and Sam. At times, he thought Sam was on the verge of telling him something, and there were times when Sharon pursed her lips as if to keep from saying something. It didn’t lead to anything, though, and even as he watched Natasha do Sharon’s hair, he was no wiser than he had been when this had first started. He’d thought Sam could tell him everything. What had happened that Sam didn’t want to tell him about?

But there was no time to talk about it right then. Maybe he would confront them after the ball.

An hour after nightfall, the phone rang. The vampires went quiet, and Sharon picked it up. “Rogers residence. How may I help you on my master’s behalf.” 

She rolled her eyes on the last part, and Steve glanced at Natasha out of the corner of his eyes. Natasha kept her eyes on the table, but Steve resolved to talk to Sharon about revealing too much in front of strangers nonetheless. Or maybe she didn’t consider Natasha a stranger. Did Sharon really talk more freely in front of Natasha than she did around Steve?

Sharon hung up the phone. “There’s a car downstairs to pick us up.”

Steve nodded and got to his feet. He glanced at Sam, noticing that Sam seemed completely relaxed in Natasha’s presence and hadn’t made a move to get rid of Natasha. Steve frowned. “We’ll be back before dawn.” Sam nodded and still urge Natasha to leave.

What was he missing about Natasha?

He led the way out of the apartment, his ears straining behind him for some conversation between the two of them, but neither of them said a word before he got on the elevator. Damn it.

Herr Schmidt - or more likely, Pierce - had sent a limousine to pick them up. Steve was relieved to see that there were no other vehicles in sight, which meant he and Sharon would be traveling together. He held the door open for her to slide in and crawled in after.

The first several miles were quiet. Steve was still trying to figure out what was going on with Sam and Natasha, and Sharon was looking at all of the buttons as if tempted to press each and every one.

She restrained herself, instead asking, “Have you been to a ball before?”

“Not many. But they’re like dances. I went to those before I was turned.” And had hated them. He’d been a skinny, frail, asthmatic kid that most girls wouldn’t look at twice, let alone dance with. He’d hoped he’d get to dance with Peggy one day, but then she had shipped out before he’d gotten the chance to ask her.

“Are they good?”

“Can be,” he said, hoping he sounded believable. “Do you think you’ll dance there?”

She looked doubtful. “Are you going to?”

Steve thought of the last time he’d danced and flinched. “No. I’m not cavalier enough to risk innocent people’s feet by dancing.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t think I will, then.”

Steve nodded and set his hand beside hers on the seat. It wasn’t close enough to touch, but he could still feel the warmth of her hand. The car radio was playing yet another patriotic-themed song, but if he closed his eyes, Sharon’s heartbeat almost managed to drown it out.

He opened his eyes when they slowed to a crawl. Already, a long line of cars waited to deposit vampires at the Capitol. Bowls of fire had been set on pillars wrapping around the building, giving it a sinister glow in the darkness. He turned to look at Sharon to make sure she was all right, only to find that she was already watching him. She looked away, and he frowned.

* * *

The throne room had changed since Steve’s visit the night before. The balcony had been extended and the throne moved to sit on a dais on the viewing platform outside. Though the main floor was large enough to host everyone comfortably, the crowd was instead pointed up the stairs to the balcony by a contingent of Capitol workers. Steve frowned again and took care to stay close to Sharon. He felt like they were being herded.

“I guess dancing isn’t an option,” Sharon murmured. “No room.” She looked to the empty floor as she climbed the stairs. “What do you think they’re planning?”

“No idea.” He held an arm around her but was careful not to touch her; given the views vampires had of humans, he supposed protectiveness was one thing, but actual touch and concern would be another. “Let’s see if we can find some place quieter.” He might no longer need to breathe as much as a human might, but the press of the crowd was far from comfortable. He craned his neck and led Sharon toward a doorway at the end of the balcony. Instead of a room in and of itself, he found that the balcony continued on over a smaller room with a large, round table in the center with one of the seats raised above the others. Some sort of meeting room, Steve guessed. The doorway after that had yet another room, smaller and less grand than the one before, but still clearly meant to impress. There were lit glass cases of artifacts, and Steve fought the urge not to go down and get a closer look. If he was right, those artifacts were meant to legitimize Schmidt’s rule, and Steve would bet all the money he had left that they were all fake.

“I think he extended the balcony in the throne room,” he said as the crowd thinned out around them. He supposed most would stay close to the throne room to greet Schmidt, but Steve had been kept waiting by the creature long enough that he knew there wasn’t any rush. “Remember how it was when you came? It was like that just last night. Can’t imagine how he got it all done so fast.”

“He uses humans,” Sharon said, her tone solemn. She sounded almost disgusted, and he looked around, concerned that she might be overheard. It was the truth, but he didn’t think it would go over well with so many other vampires around. She must have noticed; when next she spoke, her tone was quieter. “The ones that serve him without question can be turned into vampires,” she explained. “They get other perks, too. Better food, warmer clothing when it’s cold out, positions above other humans. Some of them might do it for that, but most of them do it for the chance to be vamps.”

He kept walking, taking them farther away from the crowd. “That was how they did things at the camp?”

She nodded, and they walked in silence until Steve found the portrait room. Consecutive large murals showed Schmidt turning weak and fawning humans into vampires. The next mural was Schmidt leading an assault on a beach, the vampires around him taking no pity or mercy on the human soldiers. The third showed Schmidt in a field of wheat on a full moon, followed by a group of other well-dressed vampires. Steve recognized one of them as Pierce. In the background were buildings in the neoclassical style. It all seemed peaceful, a sign of his glory and the peace he had brought to the world.

In all of the paintings, Schmidt appeared to have skin on his face and straight, black hair. Steve felt sick in his gut. If this was how Schmidt wanted to be presented, why had he let Steve see him without his mask so often?

Not even Steve knew how long they stood there, staring down at the paintings. At length, he looked to Sharon. Her eyes were set on the portrait in the middle. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” So he wasn’t the only one who was bad at lying. Not that he would point that out right now. “I just- Do you think I was... I don’t know.” She waved a hand at the painting. “What if one of them was my grandfather? Or great-grandfather?”

Steve turned back to the painting. That hadn’t even occurred to him. But then, he’d been thinking about all the people he’d trained with or grown up with who were either vampires now or dead. He hadn’t thought of Sharon’s family. He wondered if there was a way to look them up; at least that way, she could know. Sam had tried to trace his lineage at one point but had only gotten as far as identifying one great-grandmother before he’d run into a brick wall.

“Let’s get you some food,” he suggested. She always perked up once she ate something.

She nodded, but she was still somber as they walked back to the crowd. After shoving his way through for the two of them, he finally retreated to the balcony on the other side. He hadn’t caught the scent of any food.

“Maybe they’re going to put some out later,” he offered.

She didn’t seem to believe it. In truth, he didn’t, either.

They walked around the balcony in the opposite direction, more driven by a desire to get away from others than to explore. Before long, they kept walking just so they weren’t bored. 

Close to midnight, Steve heard the fanfare that indicated Schmidt’s arrival, and he abruptly turned and led the way back to the throne room. It wouldn’t do for Schmidt to think Steve hadn’t been there to greet him. 

He stopped just inside the entryway and moved closer to Sharon. “The stairs are gone.” They had been moved away from the balcony, far enough that Steve knew he couldn’t jump the distance.The main doors were closed, too. The sick feeling in his gut returned, and with it came near-paranoia. Was this the trap they had been waiting for? No. Schmidt would have separated them first, not forced guards to drag them out of the crowd. Probably. He hoped. Nonetheless, he mentally reviewed all the exits and the odds that he could fight Schmidt’s bodyguards without Sharon getting hurt in the crossfire.

Schmidt stood on the dais and held up his hands. All noise instantly stopped, though Steve’s ears caught the sounds of scuffling in the hall. Was someone crying?

“Friends!” Schmidt called. He met Steve’s eyes through the crowd, and Steve tried to appear utterly calm. There was no way this could be a trap, he told himself. He repeated it to himself over and over again, but he didn’t believe it no matter how many times he thought it.

Schmidt smirked as if he knew what Steve was thinking. “We are gathered to celebrate seventy-five years of peace and prosperity!” Cheers rang out, and Steve forced himself to cheer with them. Sharon stood beside him, silent and wary. “As a token of my gratitude for your loyalty and cooperation to make our society great,” Schmidt continued, “I have prepared a gift for you all. No, not free humans for each of you.” He smiled, and laughter rippled through the crowd. Steve couldn’t tell if it was sincere or if others’ laughter was more convincing than his own. “But a slaughter of disloyal ones that I hope you will enjoy.”

The main doors opened, and Steve clenched his jaw as a group of humans were herded into the room. He almost felt like an asshole for using the word earlier; he and Sharon hadn’t had cattle prods urging them along like this group did.

At his side, Sharon suddenly leaned forward and clutched at the railing. “Maria,” she gasped.

* * *

Sharon hadn’t known what to expect at the ball. She had eyed the other vampires and even some of the humans with suspicion, not knowing if they were more like Steve or more like the Skull. She hadn’t spoken to any other humans, nor had she noticed any of them speaking to each other. Most of them followed around their masters with their eyes on the floor. None of their eyes held the sparkle that Darcy or Daisy or Trip’s did. None of them had the vivacity of the few other humans Sharon had met. They all seemed like walking corpses, and she wondered what Steve and Sam did differently that she wasn’t like them.

At one point, she could have sworn she saw Raina. But then the vampire was gone and Sharon was left to follow Steve around like a lamb again.

She hadn’t expected the ball to be so... creepy, she supposed was the word. She had thought there would be dancing and food, but she had been wrong on both counts. There were only pitiable people and horrible portraits.

And then the Skull stood to give his speech, and Sharon wished someone had thought to put out food for the humans. She’d eaten a little before she’d changed into her dress, but her energy was waning. She forced herself to focus on the Skull’s speech, glancing at Steve every time he cheered or laughed at one of the Skull’s horrible jokes. She wished he wouldn’t play along. It made her wonder all over again if it really _was_ him playing along. Whose side he was really on. If she trusted him, would he damn the people who trusted her, all because the Skull had paid him? Or maybe Steve was playing along out of fear. She didn’t know which was worse, but she knew that she couldn’t risk the others’ trust in her.

The Skull talked about slaughter and disloyal humans, and Sharon looked quickly to Steve. The Skull’s words were plain enough, but Sharon still hoped she had misunderstood them. She hoped Steve hadn’t known this was a possibility, that he would have warned her if he’d known.

The sound of the doors opening drew her attention. She watched as people were herded in. She recognized them as workers, if only because they reminded her so much of herself. Many of them had hair that was cut close to their scalps; their clothes hung off thin frames. Their feet were bare. Sharon frowned. They were clean, though, even wearing clean clothes. They had been prepared for this.

She looked closer, unwilling to believe that so many hadn’t fought the hot baths she had hated so much in the beginning. She could see the pairs of bloody marks that indicated they’d already been fed from. Many of them were bruised, as well. One in particular sported a heavy bruise on her eye, and though Sharon hadn’t seen her in months, her stomach twisted as she recognized her.

“Maria.”

She leaned forward, and now she could see more people that she recognized. She knew a couple of them from the camp. Laura had been transferred to the pens when the vamps had found out she could breed. She thought that was Thaddeus leaning on Laura for support as he limped along; Sharon had played with his daughter until Betty had been transferred to another camp. 

Maria looked up, and Sharon’s shoulders fell in relief at seeing the same defiant glint in Maria’s eye that she had seen as a child. Maria’s eyes found her, and the for a brief moment, Maria’s face softened. She shook her head, the movement so slight Sharon doubted anyone else saw it, and then Maria’s eyes moved to the Skull instead.

Sharon heard noise at either doorway behind her. She didn’t dare look. This might be the last time she would be able to see Maria and the others; it didn’t feel right to look away.

“It would be more amusing to give them a fighting chance, wouldn’t it?” the Skull called out. “Let’s give the humans weapons! Any vampire who cannot survive these wretches does not deserve to join us!”

Some of the guards, grinning widely, handed out wooden stakes. Rumlow toyed with the humans who reached out for the stakes, pulling it away as if it were a game. Sharon heard the vampires who noticed chuckle.

The guards retreated and closed the doors behind them. 

In the ensuing silence, many of the humans lifted their weapons. Maria wielded hers as if she knew what she was doing; Sharon was surprised to see Laura do the same. The two formed a circle with some of the others, surrounding Thaddeus as he sat on the ground, a stake resting in his hand against his leg. 

Nothing happened.

For a moment, Sharon allowed herself the painful hope that maybe this was all a trick on the Skull’s part, a way for the vampires to enjoy the humans’ terror.

And then Maria’s head swiveled to a door in the wall; Laura’s went to the door on the opposite side. Several of the humans reached toward one another, small gestures as if to reassure themselves of each other’s presence.

The doors opened. Sharon gasped again. Something pressed against her, covered her mouth, but she couldn’t look to see what it was. She couldn’t look away from the figures entering the room. Gray and hunched over, their fingers nothing but skin and bones like talons, wearing ill-fitting clothing, they crawled in confusion as they entered the room. They quickly lifted their heads in the air. One by one, the creatures in the front tensed, their gaze intent on the humans.

Maria gave a shout. The people in her circle lifted their stakes; Thaddeus looked at Maria, then crawled a little closer to Laura to back her up. 

The creatures who had tensed sprinted forward; their movement spurred the other creatures into action. They might have looked half-dead, but they were fast. Maria managed to drop two before one bit her arm; while she tried to kill that one, another bit her neck, and yet another grabbed her leg and yanked it to his mouth. Laura staked one before another tackled her bodily to the ground, joined quickly by several others. Thaddeus managed to bury a stake in one of their shoulders, but then he was lost to sight. 

It was over in seconds. A smattering of applause broke out as the creatures sat among the carnage, looking much more human as they sucked blood from whatever body or body part they could find.

Sharon stared at it all. Her throat felt raw; her eyes ached. She couldn’t stop shaking.

She felt someone wiping her face, slowly became aware of how close Steve was, the words he whispered in her ear. “Shut up. Don’t cry. Think of Sam. Play along. You have to play along, Sharon. Think of Sam. Do it for him. Shut up. You have to shut up and play along.”

She stared at him. Soon, maybe not soon enough, she could hear what he meant, her quick and desperate gasps for breath. She took a deeper breath and held it as long as she could. When her face started to burn, she let it out and took another.

Steve nodded and kept wiping her cheeks with his thumb. “That’s it. Good. Keep it up. We can’t leave yet. Play along.”

She didn’t look away from his face. Now that her friends’ final moments were done and she was free to look where she willed, she couldn’t look at anything but his face. He might be the one good thing here. 

Her breath calmed, but her hands were still shaking. Steve took them in his hands. “Good. Good. You’re doing great. Stay strong a little longer, okay? We just have to play along a little while longer, and then we can go. I swear.”

She didn’t think she looked convincing at all; her eyes still felt wet and her heart hammered. She couldn’t stop trembling no matter how much she tried. 

None of that stopped Steve from leading her straight to the Skull.

She instinctively dragged her feet when she saw where they were headed, but Steve’s grip was a vise and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She redoubled her efforts to seem calm.

Steve let go of her as he moved closer to the dais, and Sharon clasped her hands in front of her to hide how they still shook. Except for the way her body shuddered, she felt like she had done as well as she could. She kept her eyes on the ground as she had seen the other humans do.

“Herr Schmidt,” Steve greeted warmly. “A show like none other, to be sure. Thank you for arranging such entertainment for us.” He bent into a deep bow, and Sharon automatically followed suit with a deep curtsy.

“My pleasure,” the Skull murmured. “I can’t help but think that your human doesn’t agree with you, however.”

Sharon watched him warily through her lashes.

He stared straight at her. “Well, human?”

She lifted her chin. Her first thought was to curse him, spit on him and rage against him with what little power she had. But Steve’s voice echoed in her head. _Think of Sam. Think of Sam._ She forced a smile that made her feel sick to her core. She wanted to cry, the vampires gathered around be damned. But Maria... Sharon set her jaw. She hadn’t cried in front of vampires before, she wouldn’t do it now. Maria had stayed strong to the end; Sharon would, too. “I would never disagree with my master, Emperor Schmidt.” Her voice was hoarse, but it was audible.

She fought to keep her eyes from flicking to either side of the dais. A man stood on one side, thin but with muscular arms. His black hair and goatee had been touched by gray. He studied her with brown eyes, his lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something. He absently ran his finger under the metal collar he wore, his gaze traveling slowly to the other side of the dais. Two others sat there, a pale woman with strawberry-blond hair, and a dark-skinned man whose face looked pained. They sat leaning against one another for support, their collars digging into their flesh. All of the collars were attached to short, heavy chains bolted to the dais. Unlike the man on the other side, these two had obviously been fed from, recently and possibly too much. Their eyes, when alert at all, followed noise but showed no sign of comprehension.

The Skull smirked. “If all humans were as loyal to their betters as you are, this evening would have been composed of dull dancing and mindless chatter. I suppose we vampires should consider ourselves lucky that so many of your kind are so willfully stupid, wouldn’t you say, human?”

Her smile hurt her face. “If I could not disagree with my master, I would certainly be stupid to disagree with _you,_ Emperor Schmidt.”

He seemed appeased by that and looked to Steve; her smile disappeared as soon as his eyes weren’t on her. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Mr. Rogers. If you will excuse me.”

Steve bowed again; Sharon dropped into another curtsy. Once the Skull was out of sight, Steve urged her through the crowd. Below, the still-thirsty vampires were lured out of sight by guards dragging away the bodies. They reached the stairs shortly after they were set back into place, and Sharon swallowed thickly, stopping right before she set her foot in a puddle of blood. For a moment, she felt dizzy, but she forced herself to step around it and tiptoe over other puddles and smears. She felt sick all over again when she realized her dress was long enough to skim through the wet blotches. She stepped over the remains of a mangled hand and hoped it didn’t get stuck under her skirt.

By the time she reached the door, she was having trouble breathing again. Steve urged her forward.

Pierce met them at the door, and Sharon fought to get herself back under control even as she thought she might collapse. “Leaving so soon?” he asked.

Steve nodded and waved toward Sharon. “She didn’t eat enough, the stupid cow. Besides, I want to rest and think of more ways to improve the portrait. Not having to look after her will help.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m glad we could stay long enough for the festivities, though.”

“I’m glad, too,” Pierce said, offering his hand to Steve to shake. “I’d hate to think anyone had missed that.”

Steve shook his hand and agreed. They said their good-byes, and Steve led the way outside. Sharon followed quickly. She’d heard stories of such slaughters nearly all her life, but seeing one gave her a new appreciation of how horrifying vampires could be. She didn’t trust Steve yet with the lives of her friends, but she trusted him to keep her safe, and she stayed close beside him as they waited for the limousine to be brought around.

The ride back to the apartment was longer, she was sure of it. She nearly broke down in tears twice, and Steve kept reminding her to keep her composure. As soon as they had stopped in front of the apartment building, Sharon clumsily dragged herself out and stumbled quickly to the lobby. Her blood hummed in her ears; her vision was wavery with tears and dizziness. She knew she couldn’t break down in front of the driver and hoped Steve understood.

He found her in the lobby, her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to cry without making noise. He cursed picked her up.

Before she could comprehend it, they were inside the apartment, and Sam and Natasha were both on their feet. Sharon thought they both looked much like Maria had in her last moments; defiant and ready for a fight against the unknown. Or had Maria known about the vampires waiting to feed on the humans?

She stumbled toward the bathroom.

“What happened?” Sam’s voice was soft.

“ _Out,_ ” Steve growled.

Sharon turned, afraid that he was sending Sam away. She didn’t want Sam to go. She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

But instead Natasha nodded. “Of course.” She stopped in the doorway long enough to meet Sharon’s eye, then disappeared.

Steve locked the door behind her and leaned against it. “Schmidt had starved vampires feed on some humans. Sharon knew some of them.”

She didn’t even realize she had broken down until she was already sitting between them, sobbing so hard she choked and coughed only to sob again. When she cried herself out, she fell into a restless sleep, and when she woke, it was to find herself on the bed with a blanket thrown over her, Steve and Sam stroking her hair or holding her hand consolingly on either side of her. She cried again, quiet this time, and she was still weeping when the sun rose and Steve and Sam fell asleep.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she got up, crawling toward the end of the bed. Carefully, she opened the door to the roof, then closed it behind her so no light would enter the apartment.

It was the first time she had seen the sun since she had left the fields. Alone on the roof, with the sun warming her skin and the birds breaking into song, it seemed like the only proper way to mourn Maria and the others.

Gradually, her tears slowed, then stopped, and soon after, she went back downstairs. She locked both doors behind her, and then crawled back under the blanket between Steve and Sam. As safe as they usually made her feel, the idea that they might one day attack her like the other vampires had attacked Maria, Laura, and Thaddeus made it hard for her to sleep. The memory played out again and again in her mind’s eye until Sharon grew too tired and she slept at last.


	10. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is delayed with the Skull; Sam is delayed by the Skull's guards at the art gallery. Sharon has to break the news about the ball to the resistance.

Night had fallen when she woke; Steve and Sam were already up and dressed, cleaning the apartment, their movements quick and silent save for the sounds of spray bottles.

She watched them for several seconds before she sat up.

They were at her side in an instant, Sam gently helping Sharon out of the bed.

“You should get ready,” Steve said quietly. “We’ll get the laundry started and cook breakfast for you.” The bed was stripped by the time she got to the bathroom, where she found a clean dress and underclothes waiting for her. They had taken off her shoes the night before, but she had slept in the dress.

Looking down, she saw that the skirt was brown and rust-colored from the blood. The sight made the room spin, and she was careful not to look at it again as she peeled the dress off.

She stayed in the shower until the hot water gave out. Her movements were slow; her were limbs cumbersome. She felt exhausted; her body ached. Yet somehow she also felt empty. She leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. She wished she could really be as empty as she felt. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have the carnage of the night before playing over and over in her mind.

She sat at the dining table and ate half the plate as Steve cleaned the bathroom behind her. The dress and shoes were deposited in a bag beside her chair, along with the fancy collar. 

“Natasha may want those back,” he said. He sounded almost apologetic. “At least the collar.”

Right. The shoes would have been stained by blood, too.

Without a word, she pushed her plate away. 

Sam scowled at Steve from the kitchen. “Is that all you’re going to eat?” he asked gently.

She glared at him. 

He held up his hands and dropped into the seat across from her.

Steve sat across from him. “We understand that you’re...” He faltered. “Devastated,” he said at last. Sharon stared at the table. “And that there isn’t necessarily anything we can do to make it better.” He looked at Sam. “But we’ll try to help as much as we can. We’ll help with the chores, even do them for you if you’re not up to it. Anything we can do to help you, we will.”

Sharon bit her lip.

“We won’t be able to help as much as we want,” he admitted. “I still have the commission to work on, and Sam still has to mind the shop. But you’ll have free reign of the apartment in the meantime; anything you want to do or need to do in order to feel better, do it.”

Her vision blurred, and she wiped angrily at the tear that escaped. “Why are you so different?” she whispered.

Steve seemed about to say something but stopped himself. Sam stared at him. 

“The other vampires didn’t care at _all,_ ” Sharon continued. “They liked it. They liked- it was like a game to them. We’re- Humans are nothing to them, but you two, you’re- You’re not like them. Why aren’t you more like them?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m not done yet.” She gaped at him, scared and alarmed, and he held up a hand. “Not like that. Jesus.” He rubbed his face. “Just... I’m not done explaining how things are going to be now. We still need you to go out for groceries and supplies.” He glanced at Sam. “We can’t do it anymore. We’re not allowed to when we have a human to do it for us. If we don’t want them to suspect us of any wrongdoing, we need to seem like we’re obedient, even when we’re not. And we know it’s a lot to ask.” He focused his gaze on her. “Are you up to it?”

She chewed her bottom lip as she thought it over. There was really no doubt, was there? They had to play along. How she felt didn’t make a difference. If she didn’t do what was expected of her, the inspectors would take her away. Steve and Sam would get in trouble.

She looked at Steve with watery eyes, remembering how he’d realized that the night before and had taken care of her as best he could. Maybe, when she felt better, she _would_ tell him about the resistance.

For now, she pulled the plate of food closer to her and resumed eating. She wasn’t going to fake normalcy on an empty stomach.

“I’m up to it,” she said. She hoped that if she said it aloud, she’d believe it was true.

It didn’t work, but Steve and Sam seemed to appreciate the effort.

* * *

Sharon trudged toward the market, empty bags on her arms save for the one with the dress. She wore her normal collar again, and even though it had felt almost comfortable the day before the ball, now it felt heavy and chafed her skin. 

Her movements were automatic as she handed Natasha the list for the day. This one had, in fact, been written by Sam. Natasha had brought food over the day of the ball, but Sam had decided that Sharon was going to need more fruit and meat if she were going to feel better.

Sharon had seen people who had raised her ripped to pieces the day before; she suspected it would take more than food to help her feel better.

Natasha smiled brightly and waved her into the back. Sharon numbly followed. Natasha’s step was light and calculated; Sharon lumbered noisily along behind her. She slogged around the living room, sank into the seat, then went into the hall and retraced her steps as if in a fog. She almost missed the secret entrance.

On the other side, Natasha led her deeper into the halls; Sharon didn’t notice where they were going. It was all she could do to follow Natasha. She kept her head down, not wanting to see how anyone else looked at her, not wanting to feel the weight of holding up her head. She shuddered as she remembered the owned humans the night before. Was this how they had felt?

Word must have gotten out that she’d arrived; the halls were busier than usual. Reminded suddenly of the crush of the crowd the night before, Sharon looked up in alarm. No. The Skull wasn’t here. Vampires like him weren’t here. She was as safe here as anywhere else.

Natasha glared, and a path opened. Sharon kept close behind Natasha; it didn’t escape her notice that some in the hall focused more on the bag with the dress in it. She wondered if they could smell the blood and held it close to her chest. If something happened to the dress, she, Steve, and Sam would never be able to pay for it.

She swallowed. That was a pointless concern now, wasn’t it.

Natasha rapped her knuckled against a door. At Fury’s answer, she opened the door and urged Sharon through. One more look from the redhead, and everyone in the hall scattered.

Sharon stood for a moment, uncertain. She’d never seen a room here so empty. There was a table with five chairs. Fury sat in one, Abe in another. Sharon tried to muster a smile for him but failed. May turned round to face her from another chair, and Sharon couldn’t believe she hadn’t yet considered that she might have let May down by not doing more to protect Maria. Her eyes fell to the floor.

“Come on,” Natasha said gently. She carefully helped Sharon to one of the empty chairs.

She didn’t speak. She wished Maria were here, that she had done something to keep Maria safe.

“I know it’s hard,” Fury said. “But we need to know what happened last night.”

* * *

Sam leaned against the counter in the art gallery and worked his way through another crossword puzzle. Pierce had called to say he would pick up Steve sometime that day, and Sam had decided to get to the gallery early in case anyone wanted to buy a portrait. Not that he expected to sell much today; most people passed the shop when they saw him working there. Even the few times that Steve had been in, sales of paintings featuring daylight of any sort had plummeted since the Skull’s tour had been announced. But then foot traffic was slower than usual anyway; he suspected many vamps were still tired from the night before. According to the radio, most of the vamps had stayed until shortly before dawn.

It was going to be a long, slow night.

The bell rang, and Sam looked up with the strongest smile he could summon. It faltered as he saw six men dressed as the Skull’s guards come in. “Hello. How can I help you?”

Five of the men headed deeper into the gallery, one or two to a room. The sixth stepped nodded to Sam. “Just looking around.” He smiled, showing his fangs. “If we need anything, we’ll ask.”

Sam fought to keep his smile in place. “Happy to help.”

Like hell he was. He was the only black vampire there, in a job the Skull considered too good for the likes of him. But he knew better than to start a fight or argue with them. The hard part would be not doing something to them when they decided to do something to _him_.

* * *

Sharon finished speaking and took a deep breath. It hadn’t been an easy account to get through, and she wasn’t sure how useful it had been. She had jumped around a little as she’d thought of more things that might be useful, and it had been difficult to get through the slaughter. She’d managed to stammer her way through, but merely thinking about it was hard enough. Talking about it was even harder.

Natasha was the first to speak. “Was Laura common name at the camp?”

Sharon shrugged.

“Did she ever mention someone named Clint?”

“From when she was in the pens?”

Natasha nodded.

Sharon hugged herself. “We didn’t see any of the people they took to the pens.”

Natasha looked at Fury. “We’ll have to tell Clint about the possibility. He was raising money to get her out of there.”

Fury nodded. At some point while Sharon had talked, he had leaned forward to stare at his hands. His mind, though, was elsewhere. “Did the Skull say anything about how he found out they were disloyal?”

Sharon shook her head. “But we all were. Maria used to tell us stor-” Her voice died in her throat. “They must have found out.” Her eyes began to sting again. She had always found strength and hope in those stories, and Maria had been killed because of them.

“From what I heard about Laura, she was the sort to tell stories in the pens,” Natasha said slowly. “The Skull might have waited until he had more, but the stories would have been enough.”

Fury was silent again. “Any mention of who else might have been compromised?”

Sharon shook her head. 

“Did you draw attention to yourself?” May asked.

Sharon hesitated. “I- I think- Maybe. Steve kept me quiet, I think, but I couldn’t stop shaking. And we were the first to leave. And I watched the way the humans acted, but I don’t think I passed for one of them. Too...” She waved a hand at herself. “Healthy?”

May smirked the faintest bit.

Clearing his throat, Abe spoke for the first time. “You mentioned a man on a dais. Was he healthy, too?”

“Better than the other two.” She thought of how the pair had sat as if in a trance. Steve and Sam had always been careful about taking blood, and they had been vigilant in making sure she ate well, but she didn’t think anyone had done that with the other two.

They lapsed into silence again, and her thoughts turned again to the ball. “Steve said before last night that the Skull actually looks like a Skull., Like a face with no skin.” She bit her lip and looked to Fury. “How did he-” She waved her hand over her face. “I don’t think Steve lied. And the Skull, even if he weren’t like what Steve said, he’s a _monster._ ” She swallowed and did her best to set aside the memory of blood from the night before; it didn’t seem to want to fade. “I asked Steve how he could be so different, but he couldn’t tell me. But the Skull... the other vampires there, they’re not like Steve and Sam. They’re not like _you._ ” Her fists clenched in her lap. “How did he become such a monster?”

Fury shrugged and leaned back. Natasha didn’t move. May looked to Sharon, her expression softer than she’d ever seen it.

“Me,” Abe said. His voice was quiet. Her head spun toward him. “I made him.”

Fury cleared his throat in warning.

“No,” he told Fury. “The girl watched people die last night. She deserves to know why, does she not?” He turned back to Sharon. “When I was a human, I lived in Europe. One night, I worked late and was attacked as I walked home. I woke some time later, thirstier than I had ever been. At first, I was disgusted with myself. It was a mindless craving that drove me to attack another man. But the blood made me myself again. It allowed me to think. I realized what I was; we had heard stories growing up. Vampires back then were rare, you see. Things of shadows and myth. But in time, it occurred to me that I had never heard of a vampire with a cold.” He smiled at her somewhat nervously, as if afraid she wouldn’t laugh with him.

She didn’t. Couldn’t. She could only stare at him.

His smile faded. “I was a scientist. I had a daughter, Esme. Very young. She was not always in the best of health, was often sickly, and I thought if I could isolate the better aspects of my condition, I might be able to help her. And other people, too. It could have been revolutionary.” He slowed, his features falling. “The man I attacked was at that time part of the Hitler Youth. He climbed the ranks while I worked on my serum. I did not kill him; vampires rarely kill their prey unless they are starving, you must understand. But this man remembered what I had done, remembered me, and he sought me out. Revenge for attacking him. He found me working in my laboratory. When I told him what I was working on the serum for, he insisted on taking it. Repayment for attacking him years before. I told him it was not ready, but he did not care. He took it, and it... twisted him. Made him something not human, but not a vampire, either.”

She waited to hear him say more, but he didn’t. He didn’t meet her eyes, either. Everyone else was watching her carefully, but he wouldn’t look at her. “You created the Skull,” she whispered.

Abe nodded briskly. “Yes. That was Johann Schmidt. After the serum failed him in many respects, he turned more people to his cause. Often by force. For some reason, the defects in the serum did not pass to the next generation, though neither did its benefits. He took my wife and daughter. He imprisoned me so that I would work to heal him. Anita and Esme did not survive long after than that. I met a man named Yinsen. He was more interested in engineering, but his family had died early in the War. He wanted to beat Johann even more than I did. He helped me to escape. By then, Johann was fighting in America, and had brought me with him. I did not know where I was or where I could go, only that Johann would hunt me down as he had so many years before. Eventually, I found Nick and his friend Phil. They had already founded a small resistance movement. I was happy to help them grow it.”

“I haven’t met Phil,” Sharon said, her voice small.

Fury stared at her as if he couldn’t believe that was what had stuck out to her. She couldn’t believe it either, but all of her other questions only led to other questions. “He died.” Fury’s voice was flat. “Vamp got him in the gut.”

“He was protecting Daisy from some vampires,” May said quietly. “Daisy’s father was white; he hid her and her mother, but Daisy’s family didn’t know about the resistance. Phil - most people around him as Coulson - approached them about joining. Daisy’s mother didn’t trust him.” She shrugged. “They were going to be found out eventually, and they were. Coulson got there in time to save Daisy, but he got hurt. Couldn’t walk it off.”

Sharon hadn’t looked away from Abe.

As silence fell again, he looked up. “I cannot make it up to you.” He spoke softly, almost as if he were afraid of her reaction. “I cannot give you back your friends. I wish I could.”

Her hands were clenched so tightly her bones ached. Yesterday, she she would never have thought she could hate Abe, but now that she knew what he’d done... If not for him, Aunt Peggy would still be alive. Maria, Laura. Maybe Sharon wouldn’t have been born; maybe her parents had only met because they were in a camp together and forced to have more children for the vampires to feed from. Even if she had never been born, though, the others being alive would have been worth it.

She swallowed. Her throat hurt.

Everyone was watching her, waiting to see how she would respond.

“You were my friend,” she said at last. “You pretended to be my friend that whole time. I _liked_ you. And the entire time, you were the one who-”

His shoulders slumped. “Yes. But I didn’t pretend. I enjoyed-”

“ _Stop._ ” Sharon jumped to her feet. “I- Don’t.” She backed away and forced her eyes toward Fury, forced herself to ignore the hurt look in Abe’s eyes. “I’ll be back tomorrow if you have more questions. Sorry about the dress and shoes, Natasha.”

She hurried away from the table. Outside, the hallway was empty except for Daisy and Darcy. Sharon froze as she looked at them, but when Darcy opened her mouth to speak, Sharon shook her head and quickly slipped past them. 

“Sharon?” Darcy called after her.

“You two, get back to work.” May’s voice was firm. Sharon didn’t slow down so May could catch up. If May was following her to try and stop her, she’d just have to run faster. She was almost into the main hall before May grabbed her arm. “You were too hard on him, Sharon.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But I can’t get over finding out about that in the span of an hour.”

May’s grip on her arm lessened. When she seemed sure that Sharon wouldn’t bolt off again, she slowly let go but kept her hand close. “He’s a good man. But bad things happen to good people, and sometimes they do things they regret to try and make them right.”

Sharon took a shaky breath. “Tell him I’m sorry,” she said at last. “It might take me a while to... adjust to all of this. But I’ll try.”

May dropped her hand to her side, but Sharon had sparred with her often enough to know that the hand could be back on her arm in a flash. “It doesn’t seem like it now,” May said softly, “but what you did was brave. You could have betrayed us all right then and there, but you didn’t. Maria would have been proud.”

The thought made her eyes sting all over again. “Only because Steve was there,” she whispered.

“If Maria hadn’t been proud of you, she never would have told you to look up Natasha. That had nothing to do with Steve.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Sharon gave her a watery smile. May’s talk almost had her convinced. Almost. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she choked out, and then left.

* * *

Now Schmidt wanted to be painted standing while wearing his mask. Steve painted over his canvas as if he had never wished for anything else and started again for the second time that day. 

He made no mention of the mask, didn’t mention of Schmidt’s other appearance. He never did, nor did he want to. He just wished he would be able to go home before daybreak.

* * *

Sharon had forgotten her bags in the meeting room. On her way out, she had hurriedly grabbed some of the food she thought she’d heard Sam mention earlier that night and dropped it into a bag. She’d left a note for Natasha, but she hadn’t felt up to seeing her again. She just wanted to go home and cry until Steve and Sam came home. 

She was almost to the apartment when she saw the three cars parked along the street. She stopped to watch; cars were an oddity in themselves in the neighborhood, where everything was in walking distance and cars were considered a needless expense, but seeing three at once was unheard of. 

There were guards on the steps of the apartment building, and Sharon stared at them with growing dread. They had to be here for her. Or worse, Steve or Sam. But no, Steve had been called to work on the commission for the Skull. They wouldn’t have him do that if something were wrong. Besides, there were other vampires in the building. Surely some of them had broken some ridiculous law somewhere. Right? 

Play along, she told herself. Don’t stand out. Pretend to be obedient.

She cast her eyes to the ground and walked like the broken people she’d seen the night before, slowly making her way to the apartment door.

One of the guards moved to block her way, and Sharon’s heart skipped a beat. What had she done wrong? Had she forgotten her collar? No. No, Sam had apologetically put it in place earlier that night. What else could she have done?

The guard must have seen her fear; he smiled. “Name, human.”

“Sharon.” She swallowed. “How may I help you on my master’s behalf?”

“Master’s name?”

“Steve Rogers.” She stopped herself from saying the apartment number. She didn’t want to give any more information than was requested. Sure, she had to play along, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for them.

The guard nodded, his smile widening. It was like he could sense her fear and was enjoying it. “You got a receipt for that food, human?”

She swallowed. No. No, she did not. She hadn’t even thought of getting a receipt. “Of course I do.”

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” one of the other guards announced as he walked over. “Surprise inspection found patched human clothes. We’ve got more than enough to hold her.”

She stared at them, her eyes wide. Her breath wouldn’t come. “What?”

One of them wrapped his arms around her. She dropped the bag of food and tried not to cry out. If the guard had enjoyed _seeing_ her fear, she didn’t want to think how much he would enjoy hearing it.

“Your vampires aren’t taking proper care of you. For your own protection, you have to be taken back to your home camp until the matter is settled.”

A third guard picked up the bag of groceries and nudged the first in the arm. “No receipt in here.”

The guard smiled again. “You got the receipt on you, human?”

Sharon stared at him, white-faced.

His smile expanded to show his fangs. “Let’s move out!”

* * *

“It’s time we got you home,” Pierce said from behind him.

If Steve hadn’t been so engrossed in the portrait, he might have jumped. Pierce had disappeared hours before. Instead, he smiled and started cleaning up after himself. “If you say so.” He bowed to Schmidt. “A pleasure, as always, Herr Schmidt.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Rogers,” Herr Schmidt answered. 

Something about the way he said it made Steve clean his brushes a little faster.

* * *

Sam had crossed the “impatient” line hours ago. The guards didn’t seem like they wanted to be there, either. Each of them had already seen all of the art several times over. Every so often, he’d overhear a couple of them making fun of it. Tasteless assholes.

He finished his crossword puzzle book, checked Steve’s account books - and those were so depressing he put them back almost immediately, boredom be damned - then reorganized the counter and dusted a little. After a couple hours, he rested his elbows against the counter.

“You’re sure I can’t help you with anything?” he asked the leader.

The leader seemed almost as bored as Sam. “Nah, we’re still browsing.”

Sam nodded and wondered what the _hell_ was going on.

And then, after another couple of hours, a guard came in from outside. “Time,” he called. The guards couldn’t get out fast enough. 

Alone at last, Sam groaned and rolled his shoulders. He’d had a hell of a night, and there was no way he was going to sell a painting in the hour before dawn. He did a quick run around the gallery to make sure the guards hadn’t messed anything up, then locked and headed home.

He frowned when he got to the apartment building. Too many weird scents hung in the air. They were thicker in the lobby, thicker still in the elevator. His gut twisted harder than it had since the guards had entered the gallery.

The scents continued in the hallway, and Sam’s motions turned to a blur as he rushed to the apartment. The lock was broken, the door ajar. He pushed it open.

“Steve? Sharon?” Neither answered. He couldn’t find their scent over the others anyway; they hadn’t been here since the scents’ owners.

He stared at the apartment. Steve’s books had been gone through, several of the pages torn out. His paints had been trampled on the floor, his sketches ripped and tossed around on the floor. The refrigerator door had been left open, the food inside left to spoil. Their bed had been taken apart, the stuffing torn out of the mattress. 

With a burst of speed, he checked the rest of the apartment. There was no sign of Steve or Sharon. There was nothing undamaged in any room.

He came out to find Steve standing in the doorway, his eyes wide as he took in what had happened to their home.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Sam said, throwing his arms around him.

Steve managed to pat him on the back, still aghast as the apartment. “I found this in our mailbox,” he said slowly, holding up a yellow piece of paper. 

Sam grabbed it. He was rattled enough that he read quickly, but it was easy enough to get the gist. “They- they took Sharon?” 

Steve jerked his head in a nod.

“We’ve gotta get her back, man. After last night-”

Steve pointed to the boarded-over windows that had been pried open. Already, the sky was beginning to lighten. He quietly closed the door behind him. “Dawn is coming. If we don’t fix this place up or go somewhere else safe, we won’t be able to help Sharon at all.”

Sam licked his lips. He grabbed a hammer with a newly-broken handle and said, “She’s got to be terrified. We need to _do_ something.” He looked around for nails. Damn it. Had they taken the nails?

“This was calculated,” Steve answered. He looked at the window, then grabbed the remains of the blankets and bedspread. “Get the door sealed. They can use humans to kill us during the day. I’ll take care of the windows.”

“I really hate those guys,” Sam spat.

“Tell me about it if we survive until tomorrow night.” After that, they worked without speaking.


	11. Transfusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam are on the run; Sharon challenges the Skull and meets her new cellmate.

Sharon didn’t have the luxury of falling asleep as soon as the sun came up like Steve and Sam did. She wasn’t even aware of how much time had passed. The guards had taken her to a building near the Capitol, taken her collar away, and shoved her into a small room with no window. In many ways, it reminded her of the room where she’d stayed in camp, when they had first tried to acclimate her to staying awake at night. A small cot sat in the corner with a thin sheet over it. A pot sat under the bed in case she had to relieve herself. The overhead light shone so brightly it hurt her eyes to look at it directly. 

There was no way to escape once they had locked her in. 

She sat on the cot and hugged herself. Had Steve and Sam been taken, too? Would they be worried about- No, they would be worried about her, if only because Steve had promised Peggy that he would look after her. Maybe they’d be worried about her anyway. They had been surprisingly considerate of her, even if they _were_ vampires.

She dropped her forehead against her knees. No, they’d worry about her. They were surprisingly good people, for vampires. Almost human.

She wouldn’t go to Natasha’s tomorrow night, either. She had said she would. What would Abe think if Sharon never saw him again? She had been upset the night before, but she didn’t think he was a monster for turning the Skull. She didn’t want him to spend forever thinking she’d believed that. She’d just needed time. 

She was already thinking as if she were going to die. But why wouldn’t she? She had seen too many people die, lost too many people. She wasn’t as fast as vampires, wasn’t as smart, wasn’t as strong.

But Maria hadn’t been as fast, either, and she and Laura had still fought to the last. Even Thaddeus, despite being injured, had fought.

Sharon wrapped the thin sheet around her shoulders, thinking of what May had said. Had Maria really been proud of her?

Maria wouldn’t be proud of her, though, if Sharon gave up. She didn’t know if Maria had truly been proud of her, but she knew that much. Maria had helped the resistance right under the vampires’ noses for years. She had trained humans in self-defense, sent them to people outside the camp who could help them after they were caught. Despite being in the camps, surrounded by vampires, she had still managed to fight back in some small way.

Sharon couldn’t do any less. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think of a plan. She was surrounded by vampires. She didn’t know where Steve and Sam were or if they were all right. She didn’t know if the resistance was compromised, if perhaps she had played some part in that. 

So think. What could she do when she had nothing to her advantage?

She was still trying to think when she drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

Steve woke with a jolt and groaned. At some point in the day, his body had shifted, and the tub faucet dug into his back. He grit his teeth and rubbed at the deep mark in his back. “Sam? You alive?”

Sam grunted and shook off the blanket Steve had thrown over him right before the sun had risen. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. Not happy about it, but yeah.” He pulled himself out of the tub and looked around the tiny bathroom. Sure enough, someone had tried to get in during the day, but they hadn’t been able to budge the door with the heavy ceramic sink and toilet propped against it; he and Sam had even pulled out the tub out to help blockade the door.

All the boards and canvases that he had taped, nailed, and glued over the window were still in place.

He kicked the tub back into place, then shoved the sink and toilet away. “Sending humans after us means they want us in custody, too,” he said darkly.

“And they’d rather get us when we can’t fight back,” Sam agreed. “Except now we know they want us, and they’re going to expect us to make a run for it.”

Steve’s lips thinned. In the past, whenever they had felt anyone was starting to suspect that they had lied, they’d made a run for it. But they couldn’t this time. Not only had he made a promise to Peggy, he’d made a promise to Sharon. They couldn’t abandon her to Schmidt. He’d never forgive himself if they did.

Sam didn’t even have to look at him before he spoke again. “We can’t make a run for it without Sharon. I know. I wasn’t going to suggest it.” Sam listened at the door for a moment before peeking cautiously outside. “I I know a place we can go for help.”

“They’ll have a human watching us in case we try to run.” Steve looked over the apartment where they had lived for almost thirty years. It had been the closest thing to a home they’d had. But once they got Sharon back, they’d start a new one. One that was farther away. Beyond the Skull’s reach, if such a place existed. “Maybe more than one.”

“Easy enough to handle.”

Steve picked up the yellow sheet of paper that had been left in their mailbox and had since been trampled on the floor. He read over it once, then angrily balled it up and tossed it away. With one last look at the apartment, he followed Sam out.

* * *

Sharon felt someone standing over her and blinked her eyes awake. She was still tired from the night before, and she hadn’t eaten since she’d been taken. She hoped that was Steve, coming to wake her for breakfast.

But then she looked up to see the guard standing over her, and all thoughts of sleep hunger disappeared. She pulled away from him, pressing herself against the wall to get as far away from him as she could.

The cot was too small to put much distance between them; he leaned over and grabbed her arm with ease. “The Emperor wants a word with you before you’re sent to the camp. Lucky you, girl.” He smiled much the same way he had when he’d taken her away.

* * *

Sam paused at the back of Natasha’s shop. He could hear some of the other vampires in the market getting their stalls ready, and another heartbeat in and out of Natasha’s shop that had to be Darcy’s, but he couldn’t see anyone watching the store. He could hear another set of human heartbeats on the other side of the market, but their heartbeats were steady, their owners bored. They were watching the main market. Maybe they were merely watching the place on the off-chance he and Steve stopped by and didn’t actually expect them to do so. These were the first two heartbeats that didn’t belong that they’d heard since they’d left their apartment building. Those had been easy enough to avoid, just as these were; his and Steve’s paranoia was paying off. Not soon enough, but it was still useful.

He knocked on the back door and heard everything inside go quiet. He spoke softly through the door. “Natasha! It’s me. Sam!”

She was at the door moments later, unlocking it and peeking through. He didn’t doubt she had a weapon held out of sight and at the ready.

“Everybody we know is trying to kill us,” he greeted her.

She rolled her eyes and moved aside for them to come in. She looked at Steve curiously, then looked behind him. “Where’s Sharon?”

“They took her last night.” He didn’t have to elaborate on whom “they” were.

He heard a gasp from the other side of the shop. Darcy stood, holding a basket of lettuce. He nodded to her in solemn greeting. “Sorry. We would have told you sooner, but we didn’t get home until right before sun-up.”

“They arranged it that way,” Steve said, and Sam looked at him in concern. Rarely did Steve sound dangerous. “They kept us busy all day and only let us get home in time to see she’d been taken, and then they tried to take us in the night. It’s psychological. It’s got to be. They wanted us to see Sharon had been taken, not just be told. Wanted us to be scared.”

“In my case, it’s working,” Sam admitted.

Steve glanced at him. “Mine, too.”

Natasha crossed her arms as she thought; in one hand, she held a stake that looked as if it had been used before. “So the humans watching the place across the street are here in case you two show up?”

“Probably,” Sam admitted. He didn’t want to push Natasha to let Steve downstairs, but he wished she’d get around to it. Even in the shadows of the shop, he felt far too exposed. He caught her eye and glanced at the floor.

She studied Steve; he stared back at her wordlessly. “You’d better get inside,” Natasha said.

Darcy dropped the basket and hurried to the rug; Sam beat her there and pulled up the trapdoor. As he led Steve down, he heard Natasha talking to Darcy. “Open the shop. Everything as normal, understand?”

He didn’t hear Darcy’s answer. He and Steve were already too deep in the tunnels, and the rest of the conversation was too quiet. He pressed open the secret door and found Daisy waiting with a basket of tomatoes to hand off to Darcy upstairs. 

She looked from him to Steve and set the basket down. “I’d better get M- Uh, the others.”

* * *

The blood had been removed from the throne room, but its heavy and pungent stench was still in the air. Sharon swallowed. The guard dragged her along the long path to the throne; guards stood silently on either side, standing so still she knew they had to be vampires.

The chances of her getting out of this alive were worse than she’d thought.

Worse than that, she was going to disappoint Maria.

The guard threw her to the floor in front of the throne; she glared at him over her shoulder.

“I’m disappointed that Mr. Rogers has not been taking better care of you,” the Skull said. He didn’t raise his voice, but his voice echoed around the room nonetheless. “After I was so benevolent as to take him into my confidence.”

Sharon bit the inside of her cheek. Now that she was at this point, she was more frightened than she’d expected. “You aren’t worthy of saying the word ‘benevolent,’ Skull.” He shouldn’t talk about Steve, either. He wasn’t worthy of it. “You’re not even fit to talk about other vampires. you’re a mistake. A serum that went wrong.”

She didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but she couldn’t hear anything but her heartbeat and her breath.

“A serum?” the Skull queried, his voice low. She swallowed thickly. “Whatever gave you that idea, human?”

“I’m not surprised you have to ask.” She tried to keep her voice lofty, untouched by fear. She couldn’t be the only one who heard the shakiness in her voice, but she could pretend. “Given that the serum probably damaged your mental abilities. I’m surprised the vampires would allow a fraud like you to rule over them.”

The Skull didn’t answer. No one else made a sound. Sharon fought the need to fill the silence with more chatter. She had to hint that she had knowledge, not reveal too much. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried not to shiver.

At length, the Skull stood. “I will forgive you for addressing me so improperly,” he announced. “As for the other matters, we are required to hold you until your master passes inspection.” There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, and Sharon understood what it meant; Steve wouldn’t be able to get her back. She had to hope that he and Sam were at least alive.

“However, your purpose as a trough still exists. Toward that end, it is fortunate that you are here. I have recently converted some of my most loyal human followers.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She hoped he couldn’t hear, but from the way his lips twitched into a savage smile, he had.

He lifted a hand and beckoned to one of the guards. “I believe you know him, as a matter of fact. Perhaps, once Rogers fails, he can take you in. I’m sure he’ll treat you with the firmer hand you clearly did not have with Rogers.”

She stared at the Skull and wished she had spent more time with Natasha talking about negotiations. She doubted it would have helped; she was still too new to this. She hoped it didn’t show on her face. She hadn’t expected him to counter so quickly, and certainly not with this.

Rumlow, gray-skinned, his features dried out and stretched tight against his face, stepped through the doorway; his eyes settled on her, and the next thing she knew, he was at her side, his nose nuzzling her throat. His arms wrapped around her tightly; she took a shuddering breath that turned into a whimper.

“I will visit you later,” the Skull announced. “To make certain you are taken care of properly.”

Rumlow buried his teeth in her throat, and she grunted in pain. It had never felt that way when Steve or Sam had fed from her. She pushed against him, but his grip only tightened. He drank deeply, too deeply, and her whimpers quieted as her vision faded. She thought she could feel her blood leaving her. Her limbs grew heavy; her body was swept by a chill.

It was almost a blessing when her vision went back. She just wished she could have made Maria proud again.

* * *

The questions lasted for hours. They separated him from Sam, and it didn’t escape his notice that the Skull had tried the same technique. Surprisingly few of the questions were obtuse, Steve noted, but he had spent so much of his life navigating hints and subtext that he still recognized when people were trying to trap him. How had he found out about them, where was he from, what did he do for a living. Mundane or direct, they all had the aim of learning whether he supported the Skull or the resistance.

His concern for Sharon seemed to convince them more than anything else, though he was sure his closeness to Sam didn’t hurt. Still, the questioning lasted far too long before Fury had told him he could wait outside. It seemed like the resistance had more problems than one of its members having gone missing and a strange vampire entering their midst, and an argument had broken out about safe trails to the west.

Outside, Sam stopped talking to the man beside him. “Gotta go.” The other man nodded and walked away but kept close enough to keep watch. “That’s Trip,” Sam said, walking to Steve’s side.

Steve nodded.

Sam hesitated and licked his lips. Steve frowned; Sam only did that when he was nervous. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said slowly. 

“You think?” Steve demanded. His tone was sharper than he’d intended. He took a deep breath. “You and Sharon were part of a resistance movement and neither of you told me. Did either of you think I’d want to know?”

“Of course we did.” Sam licked his lips. “But Sharon was worried that you were playing along a little too well.” Steve gaped at him. “And you were with the Skull every night. She was scared that she’d betray everyone here by telling you. You _are_ a bad liar, man.”

He hadn’t expected Sam to shut him down so quickly or efficiently. He _was_ a bad liar. He’d gotten better at it, but he wasn’t nearly as good as others. Not as good as Sam and Sharon, evidently.

He leaned back against the wall. He rubbed his face with his hands. It hurt that they hadn’t trusted him, but he couldn’t blame them, either. It wasn’t as if he and Sam had told Sharon all of their secrets, and certainly not their biggest ones. For much the same reasons. They’d worried she’d be careless.

In retrospect, he felt more than a little stupid for thinking she couldn’t keep a secret. He never would have imagined she’d be part of a resistance movement. Given Peggy’s legacy, perhaps he should have.

Noise grew in the hall, loud enough that the door to the meeting room opened. Trip moved to the hallway, but he couldn’t hold back the man who pushed his way past him; a few others ducked under Trip’s arms. Steve looked at Sam to see if Sam understood what was going on, but Sam shrugged and turned to watch.

“They’re liquidating the camp,” the man said. “All the humans there.”

“Trip, get these damn people out of here!” Fury demanded. He glowered at the newcomer as Trip urged people out with a mix of light teasing and brusque orders.

Fury glared at Sam and Steve, but Steve didn’t budge. At length, Fury gave up.

“Which camp?” he asked the newcomer.

“Lehigh.”

Steve’s head jerked up. “That’s Sharon’s camp.” Still seeing that the others, even Sam, didn’t understand yet, he talked faster. “Sharon’s at Lehigh. When a human is taken away, they’re sent to the closest camp for their own protection. They’re assigned the same job that they had before they were bought until the case is settled.”

“Have you ever heard of a vampire getting a human back?” Fury’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it still felt like a slap in the face.

“If she’s there, it’s too late already,” the newcomer said. He didn’t bother sounding kind, and Steve tried not to resent him for it. “I went as soon as I heard about Laura. They’re not letting in vamps at all. Humans are being sent to the Capitol for purge.”

Natasha hit him in the arm. “Clint. Shut up.”

“What?” Clint rubbed his arm. “Not telling him the truth isn’t going to help anything.”

Steve sprang to his feet. “We’ve got to get her back. I promised I’d look after her.”

Fury glowered at him. “And how do you propose we do that?” Was it Steve’s imagination, or was there a heavier emphasis on the “we?”

Steve looked at the others in the room. He and Sam could use some backup, he knew. They weren’t enough to take on all of the Skull’s guards. But he couldn’t ask them to die to help him fulfill his promise to Peggy, either.

“I don’t know about anybody else,” Sam said, “but that asshole owes us.” He looked up at Steve. “If only because he has to pay for the commission.” He grinned, showing his fangs. “Though we owe him way more than that. We need to collect it at some point. Why not tonight?”

“Maybe because we have no plan,” Fury interrupted.

May looked at Natasha, who in turn looked to Fury. “But we do have someone who might be able to help,” Natasha said. “It’ll take time.”

“Those people inside there don’t _have_ time,” Clint snapped.

“And Sharon’s in there alone,” Steve reminded them. If she was still alive. He didn’t think they’d forget so easily, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to remind them as much as possible.

Natasha sent them both a glance that indicated very clearly that they should shut up, and then spoke again to Fury. “We’ve got some people on the inside. Not many, but more than we’ve had in a long time. We might not be able to save all the humans, sir, but this might be the best chance we have to stop the Skull.”

Steve gaped at her. He looked around and hoped she didn’t consider Sharon as one of their people on the inside. “You’re not going to use Sharon to stop the Skull. We’re getting her out of there.” And then he, Sam, and Sharon were leaving. Maybe they’d go to the West Coast. Hell, maybe even go to South America.

“If they think she has information they want, they won’t kill her,” Natasha said thoughtfully.

“And what information could she possibly have that they’d want?” Steve snapped. “She’s a human. What’s she supposed to know that could be so valuable?” He glanced around at each of them, his features growing colder. His eyes fell last on Sam. How many secrets had Sam and Sharon kept from him? How was he supposed to protect them when he didn’t even know what they were doing behind his back?

“Of course,” Clint interjected, “if they don’t think she’s of value, they’ll liquidate her with the rest.”

Steve had rarely been so tempted to punch someone in his life. 

“In which case she’s dead already.” Fury’s voice was quiet, but there was no way anyone in the room could miss it. “And the plan remains the same. Natasha’s right. We can’t keep waiting for them to chip away at us. It’s time we take the fight to them.” He looked almost apologetic when he looked at Steve, but Steve knew that Fury would risk Sharon’s life if it meant accomplishing his goals. If it had been anyone else’s life hanging in the balance, he might have even respected it.

Seeing that Steve wasn’t about to put up a fight, or at least not yet, Fury nodded to Natasha and May. “Let’s do it.”

As Natasha passed by on her way out the door, she paused beside Steve. “If Sharon _is_ alive, we’ll hear about it. I’ll make sure you know as soon as I know anything.”

It wasn’t much, but it was still more than he had expected. “Thank you,” he said with fervor.

But then she and May were gone, and he was left sitting uselessly beside Sam again.

* * *

Whatever Steve’s latest art project was, Sharon was going to kill him. He wasn’t normally loud when he worked except for the tapping of a brush handle against the palette on occasion, but he must have started something special tonight. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that he was working with something metal. Clanging reverberated in her head. Sam had probably abandoned her so he could get away from the noise, damn it.

She rolled over and tried to pull the pillow over her head, but she could barely lift her arms. She turned her head head and was trying to get her shoulders to follow suit when the clanging stopped and a heavy hand shoved her down.

“Whoa,” a man’s voice said. “Keep still. You don’t want to roll out of bed while getting a blood transfusion. Trust me.”

She froze. That voice didn’t belong to Steve or Sam. Her eyelids felt as if she had sandpaper in them, but she forced them open nonetheless. She blinked. Everything was still dark, just blurrier. She demanded to know where she was, but her words came out in a groggy slur.

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass,” the voice agreed. “Hold on. BOBBI!”

She must have drifted off again; when next she was aware of her surroundings, the voice was talking with another voice. She didn’t recognize the new one, either, and she had trouble focusing on the words. She thought the man’s voice said something like, “There she is,” and then something was pushing her forward. The pain in her head decided to explode like a sunburst in her skull, and she moaned in protest. Something was pressed to her lips, and a small amount of juice trickled into her mouth.

The first truly lucid thought broke through - she was _thirsty._ She reached for the cup, but her hands were too weak to hold it on her own. She gulped down as much as she could, leaning against whoever held her. When she’d drank all she could, she sat and panted, and the person holding her moved to set her down again.

“I’ll go get her some food,” the voice said. A woman’s. Sharon felt the errant hope that it might be Natasha talking, but she was asleep again before she could make sure.

She woke to find herself jostled again and protested grumpily.

“Still a fighter,” the woman said. “That’s a good sign.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t like being woken up again,” the man countered. “Having been in her position before, I can say from experience that it’s no picnic.”

“You’ve never been on a picnic in your life, Tony.”

“We ever get out of here, I’ll take you on one. Those weird stupid ones like they talk about in books. I’ll dig up one of those carousel things where the horses spin around. Hell. I’ll build you one myself. Open up, kid.”

Sharon felt something against her lips; after a moment’s hesitation, she opened her mouth. She moaned as the taste of meatloaf filled her mouth. 

“There we go. Not bad, right?”

She opened her eyes and saw a woman offering her another forkful of food. Sharon reached to take it, but her hand trembled, and she ended up simply opening her mouth instead. She watched them as she chewed. Her vision had improved; though it was still blurry, she could see that the woman had long, blond hair. She was dressed like one of the guards. It was difficult to determine more in the darkness; the only light seemed to come from behind the man at her side. 

“Who’re you?” she slurred. 

The man leaned back as if offended.

“I’m Bobbi Morse,” the woman answered. “He’s Tony Stark. I’m in charge of watching over the two of you during the day.”

Sharon opened one eye, then the other to test her vision as Bobbi gave her another bite of meatloaf. “I’m not weak,” she muttered. “Not usually.” Her throat was dry; her voice came out as a rasp. She didn’t reach for the fork again, though; her hand would only shake like it had before, and she felt much more comfortable with her hands laying limply at the cot.

Bobbi’s lips formed a small smile. “I’m sure. But Rumlow took more blood than he should have.”

“And the Skull’s _pissed_ about it,” Tony cut in. She didn’t have to see his features to know he was grinning viciously. “You’ve apparently got something he wants.”

Sharon chewed silently.

Bobbi got to her feet, and Sharon felt dizzy again as she watched Bobbi stand, stretching upwards seemingly forever. Bobbi had to be almost as tall as Steve. “Good thing, too. You’re safer here.” She stretched her arms over her head. “You’ll need rest, more juice, and more food. I’ll see what I can do about getting an IV.” She leaned over and pulled blankets up to Sharon’s chin. “You’re going to be fine. Tony’s an ass, but he’s a good one.”

“What was that about my ass?” the man cut in. “And you liking it?”

Bobbi sighed. “Look after her, numbskull.”

The man, Tony, nodded and looked over at her. He didn’t say anything until Bobbi had left. “Get some sleep.” Unlike his tone when he’d spoken to Bobbi, his voice now was kind, gentle. “The vamps won’t bother you until nightfall. Even then, the shape you’re in, they won’t be able to really torture you for a day or two.”

She looked up at him in faint surprise.

He flashed her what could have passed for a grin. “Good. You’re still paying attention. Hey, before Bobbi comes back, do you have a problem with needles?”

Sharon’s face scrunched as she tried to think of how often she’d dealt with needles. She couldn’t remember, and she managed to shake her head twice before her head spun. “Might have a problem with teeth now, though.”

Tony nodded with a grin and bent over a table. “Just get some rest, then.”

She let her head loll to the side. She had just woken up, but she was still tired. This was nothing compared to how she’d felt after Steve or Sam had fed from her. Even when they’d fed from her one after the other. No, it wasn’t just a matter of being tired, she thought. It was a listless feeling, like wanting to sleep but not being able to. Tired, but hopelessly, dreadfully awake.

Her gaze found the red tubes leading to her body. Somebody had said something about those, she thought. She had the dim memory of falling out of bed. Or had she? No. No, she’d fallen asleep again before she could.

Her eyes traced the tubes to her arm, and her head started to spin again. Blood. The tubes were full of blood. She couldn’t think why that mattered. After all, she’d seen it before. So much of it. She’d just never seen it going into her. That was it. Never seen tubes of blood. Never seen it going in or out of her body, just spilled on the floor with solid bits mixed in.

“Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Those are the needles you were talking about?” It got harder to speak halfway through, but before she could resolve to speak more clearly, she’d passed out.


	12. Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve try to do what little they can; Sharon gets to know Tony better.

It was a testament of how absolutely pissed off Steve was with Sam that for the first time in decades, Sam had fallen asleep without Steve beside him. It was hard enough waking up in a strange place and remembering that their home was no longer their home. It was harder still to have to remember that while sitting alone, surrounded by near-strangers.

Sam gave himself a couple minutes to prepare himself, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was preparing himself for. He wasn’t surprised that Steve felt betrayed by him and Sharon keeping secrets from him, nor was he surprised that Steve was angry with Sam over that betrayal. He had to prepare himself for the worst, that Steve might intend to make their night apart a more permanent situation. If that were the case, Sam wasn’t sure what he would do. Steve had been a constant in his life ever since he had become a vampire, and he didn’t want to lose that constant because he had kept a secret.

He got to his feet and felt the first twinge of sluggishness, a sign that his last feed from Sharon was fading. How long would Sharon’s blood last? It had been, what, two nights since he’d last fed? If he kept expending energy, he’d need more in a night or two. Of course, with the Skull hunting them down, it might be wise to feed from some other human soon.

He hadn’t fed from another human in almost a year. Even the thought felt almost like a betrayal.

Maybe he was going to betray everyone he cared about this week, one way or another.

He took a breath and set off to find Steve. They were going to have to talk their way through this. If Steve needed space, Sam would have to respect it. He wouldn’t like it. He could even hate it. But he’d respect it. But he’d have to know for sure that was what Steve wanted.

And he’d have to argue his case if Steve wanted to leave him for good.

The tone in the underground dwelling had changed since he’d fallen asleep. There was no longer the feeling that people were trying to survive while going about their daily lives. People walked with a purpose now, a quiet heaviness that said that what they were doing might get them killed but they would do it anyway. It reminded him again of his grandfather, how determined he had been to be worthy of respect even when no one was interested in giving him any, how the daring of acting like an equal had gotten him beaten until it eventually got him killed.

Sam stood out of their way when they passed. Whatever task they had, it was more important than his own.

He hadn’t gone through many rooms before he found Steve’s scent, fresh and leading him deeper into the earth.

As he got closer, he could hear voices. He recognized one as Steve’s, and the other belonged to the man who had arrived the day before, Clint.

“-wasn’t like I could marry her, and I wasn’t going to,” he managed to make out. “But there’s plenty of land out there that the Skull and his people haven’t found. She knew farming, I know hunting. We could have- Not that it matters anymore.”

Sam drew to a stop beside an open door. This far down, few people passed by. He suspected it was why the two had come down here, for privacy, and that bothered him more than it should have. He couldn’t deny the growing sense of jealousy at the thought that Steve might trust Clint more than he did Sam. Surely Sam hadn’t screwed up _that_ badly.

“He wouldn’t have left you alone.” Steve’s voice was quiet. “Sam and I have spent most of our lives running. We tried doing it with no money, we’ve tried with faked papers. He would have tracked you down, or stumbled upon you by accident. You would have spent your lives on the run.”

Clint made a scoffing sound. “You can’t tell me it didn’t occur to you to grab that girl you were talking about and your friend and run for it.”

“It did. It was all I could think about at first. Get her out, get Sam, and go. But Sam and I have tried that before. It doesn’t work. Sooner or later, someone finds you.”

“You can kill them all,” Clint argued mulishly. 

“He’s got an army at his disposal,” Steve pointed out. “Most of the people he controls are part of a military force that does nothing but enforces his whims. He would send more people after you, too many to beat. He would throw people at you during the night and during the day. Could Laura really have survived that for long? Could you have protected her around the clock for days on end?” Clint didn’t answer. “It’s an unsustainable system,” Steve continued after a moment, “but if it falls on its own, there’s no telling how many people will get hurt in the process, or if the person who takes over for the Skull will be worse. If we want to beat him, if we want to put a system in place that doesn’t treat people the way Laura or Sharon have been treated, then we need to do this. Our chances are bad, but they’re worse if we’re doing this alone, right? We need to work together.”

Again, silence fell. At length, Clint said, “You said that human of yours knew Laura?”

“She didn’t tell me herself, no. But Natasha says they knew each other from before Laura got sent to the pens.”

Sam heard them shift positions. He backed away from the door.

“Then let’s go get your human back and put the Skull down like the son of a bitch he is.”

Sam sank into the shadows just as Clint turned out of the room. He carried a bow and full quiver on his back. As weird as the sight was, Sam was careful not to react until Steve passed as well. He began to follow Steve, but Steve stopped at the end of the hall.

“Sorry I didn’t make it last night,” Steve murmured quietly. “Clint wanted to go off alone to take down the Skull; convincing him to work with the group took longer than I anticipated.” Steve turned to face him, and Sam let loose a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“I thought you might need space.” He was still afraid of the possibility, but he also had to make sure Steve knew it was okay to take that space. Better a short time apart now than Steve growing to resent him for the rest of eternity.

Steve smiled sadly. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But never a whole night.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t like that you and Sharon didn’t feel you could trust me. I understand why, but I don’t like it. If I’d known, maybe I could have done something differently. I keep thinking about what I could have done. I know it doesn’t make a difference now, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not your fault. We were _all_ trying to do things as normal as possible. We were too afraid to do anything different.”

“Because we were trying to protect each other,” Steve agreed. There was a hint of grim mirth to his tone. “Instead of working together. Which is what we’re going to do now.” He nodded down the hall, and Sam quickly fell into step beside him. “And it isn’t going to be easy,” he continued. “Fury and Natasha have a plan, but it’s going to take nights.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “So Sharon’s just supposed to wait for us? For _nights?_ ”

“That’s why I said it isn’t going to be easy. That, and they said they’re relying on her to make the plan work.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered. Bad enough thinking that Sharon was alone and defenseless with the Skull, but if she was part of some sort of plan to overthrew the Skull, that meant she was in even more danger than before, and he and Steve wouldn’t be able to help her.

Steve nodded. “Exactly.”

* * *

Sharon woke to the man’s shouts. Blinking, rousing too slowly, she felt herself grabbed and lifted up like a rag doll. She felt the needles as they were ripped from her arms, but there was too much to distract her from the blood pooling on the floor for her to feel queasy.

Her world stilled, and Rumlow’s face came into focus. He grinned at her, showing his new fangs.

Natasha and May’s training took over, and her knee lifted automatically.

Rumlow dropped to the floor; she fell to the floor and tried to crawl away, but his hand grabbed her ankle. “Bitch,” he muttered. He dragged her closer. He got to his feet again, lifting her up with him.

She was too dizzy to think of a suitable retort. He spun her around, and she nearly vomited as her world tilted. Her knees went weak, and if it hadn’t been for the grip on her arms, she would have fallen again.

“I suggest you tell me what I want to know,” the Skull growled at her. He hadn’t bothered with the mask today, and light glinted off his red muscles as if he were the monster everyone knew him to be. His face was frozen in a grotesque smile. “Before I give you to Rumlow once again.”

Sharon breathed deeply. Think, she told herself. _Think._

No thoughts came. Natasha and May hadn’t prepared her for this, and she didn’t have the wherewithal to handle it on her own. Okay, then. Stall.

“What could I possibly know what you would want to know?” she asked. Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse. She forced herself to look up at the Skull and say as innocently as possible. “I’m just a weak little human.” It sounded false to her ears; she couldn’t care.

But it was true, wasn’t it? She _was_ a weak little human.

Just like Maria, Laura, and Thaddeus had been. Just like the humans working with the resistance.

All of the humans Sharon knew had kept fighting. As weak as they were, as weak as they thought themselves to be, they’d kept fighting.

The Skull’s eyes narrowed; his grip tightened. “You think to mock me, human?”

Her chin jutted out. “You killed most of the people I grew up with at the ball, Skull. I don’t know if my parents are still alive, where they are if they _are_ alive.” She didn’t know if Steve and Sam were alive still. She didn’t want to mention them and have the Skull speak their names, though. “I have nothing left to lose.”

Before she knew what was happening, he had wrenched her away from Rumlow and twisted her arm to hold her wrist close to his face. He had no lips, only the musculature underneath, and the red muscles ghosted over her skin for a moment. “You can still lose your life. You humans never seem to realize how fragile you are. Feeding from you this way is more painful for you. It takes longer to heal if the bite goes deep enough, as well. I have caused humans permanent damage by feeding this way. You rely on your hands to work, don’t you, dirt-mite?”

Sharon tried to smile, but the pain of having her arm twisted turned her smile into a grimace. “I realize that I’ve lost a lot of blood already. And if I die, you’ll never find out where your creator is.” 

The Skull glared at her, his grip crushing her wrist tighter and tighter until she feared he might break it. What was there to stop him from doing it? And he was right. She relied on her hands.

Of course, that was assuming she was going to survive this, and that was folly. What good were hands to the dead?

“This bravado will only make you suffer, girl.”

She did her best to smirk; it would have been more effective if he hadn’t lifted her arm and made her gasp and pain.

He threw her arm away and wiped his sleeve with a gloved hand as if she had sullied him. “You think you will last here? Living at my mercy, enjoying what little food or drink I deign to give you?”

Sharon stared at him. No, she didn’t think she would last. She half-hoped he _would_ kill her. At least then, she wouldn’t have to worry about betraying Abe or the others.

He studied her, his eyes glinting faintly in the darkness. “No one lasts here unless I allow them to. Rumlow, come. She requires a different means of persuasion.”

She kept still, not wanting to let them see how dizzy she felt, how close to falling she was. But as he walked past, Rumlow squeezed her neck, clutching the bruises and the wounds from his feeding, and she fell to her knees with a pained cry. She panted on the ground, tears stinging her eyes, and was only vaguely aware of the door slamming shut.

Thick leather gloves helped her to her feet. “I have to admit,” Tony said, “that wasn’t bad.”

She made a face. That wasn’t how it had felt to her. And she felt like she was going to vomit again. She leaned against Tony, letting him help her back to the cot.

He gently set her on the edge of the cot. “Don’t pass out yet,” he instructed. “I’ve got to change that bandage. Bobbi’s not on duty, but she’s still a total bear when someone pisses her off.” He fumbled with objects on a table; she was too busy keeping her face in her hands to watch. “And if she asks, be sure to mention that I said ‘bear’ and not something else.” He knelt in front of her and tugged her hands away from her face. “So you know something the Skull wants to know, huh? About his creator?”

She glared at him, but her vision went in and out of focus. He didn’t seem upset, though. “I’m not telling _you._ ”

He began undoing the bandage around her neck. “Nor should you. You’ve got bargaining power with the Skull. Probably the only thing keeping you alive. By all means, keep it.”

She gripped the edge of the cot as he worked. Taking deep breaths helped clear her head.

“By the way, how _is_ Abe?”

All the progress she’d made with deep breaths was undone in a moment.

Tony smirked at her. “Okay, so you _do_ know who created the Skull. That’s both... good and bad.”

“Bad because I might tell,” she murmured.

He shrugged, but she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“You can kill me,” she offered. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it myself yet.”

He met her eyes as he finished unwinding the bandage. “No need to rush into that just yet,” he said. His eyes fell to her neck, and he made a face. “Be right back.”

She didn’t move as he got to his feet and crossed to a desk on the other side of the room. Now that she was sitting and her vision wasn’t fading as much, she could see that they were in a large room, what looked like a furnace on one side of the room, providing most of the heat and an orange glow that gave just enough light to see nearly the entirety of the space. Candles sat on many of the tables, though few were lit.

Tony grabbed a candelabra and set it on the floor at her feet. He poured something from a bottle onto a rag. “This might sting a little.” He pressed the cloth to her neck and ignored her ensuing curses. “I always wanted to say that,” he said cheerfully. “Usually, people say it to me. Which doesn’t make it sting any less. And it _always_ stings.” He continued to dab at her skin and nodded encouragingly as she took deep breaths. “That’s it. Breathe.”

She continued to do so. “Who are you, anyway? And what’s this place? I thought they were going to send me back to camp.” She made a face. “If I survived Rumlow, that is.”

Tony frowned at her. “Stark,” he said, as if that explained everything. Seeing that Sharon still didn’t understand, he pointed to himself. “Tony Stark. No? Do they teach you kids anything these days?”

She pointed a finger at herself. “Sharon. Sharon-” Her voice froze in her throat. Her situation was already bad; how much worse would it get if the Skull found out she was a Carter? After all, he had kept Peggy alive for decades as a trophy. She didn’t know if he would do that to her as well, but she didn’t want to find out, either. “Sharon,” she said firmly.

Tony sighed. “Well, Sharon Sharon Sharon, this is where the privileged guests stay. You and I have something the Skull wants, so he keeps us alive and in the dark where no one knows we’re here except for a few guards, and he makes sure we don’t get enough food to be content, or enough to drink to be content. And I hate to break it to you, but we don’t get showers or baths unless he allows it, and then the showers are almost never hot. The baths, on the other hand, can be a little _too_ hot. Just so you know.”

She frowned and lifted her chin as he put salve on her neck. Now that she was more aware of what was going on, her neck _hurt._ “What do you know that the Skull wants?”

“Engineering. He wants me to design things for him. Mostly weapons.”

She looked down her nose at him. “Do you?”

He looked at her for a couple seconds, then pointed at her hair. “Hold that up so I can finish.”

Sharon bit her lip and did as instructed. Her fingers were clumsy, and her arms shook, but she managed to keep her hair out of the way. So he _was_ helping the Skull. He was nice enough for a traitor, she supposed. Sad, really. But she was glad she hadn’t told him about Abe. 

He quickly wrapped a fresh bandage around her neck and leaned back. “There. Done. Now to get you a fresh IV, and you should be good to rest for another couple of hours.” He tugged her arms out straight, and Sharon’s eyes swallowed thickly as she saw the blood on her skin. She hadn’t seen that much since the ball, she thought as the world tilted again.

“Or you could pass out again,” Tony said, his voice echoing weirdly. “That’s good, too.”

* * *

When she came to, it was to the sound of more hammering. She groaned and reached up to cover her ears.

The hammering stopped. “Guess that means you don’t want to hear me sing.” Tony came over and crouched beside the cot. “How’re you feeling?”

“Horrible,” she muttered.

He nodded. “Well. Keep your eyes closed.”

Sharon did so, but she couldn’t suppress her moan when she felt him mess with the needle in her arm.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” he chided. “How’d you get to be so squeamish about blood, anyway?”

She didn’t answer; she was too busy trying not to throw up.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony patted her hand. “Okay, Sharon Sharon Sharon. Or, as I’m thinking of calling you to save time, ‘Sharon,’ you’re good. Here.” He helped her sit up and then pressed a cup into her hand. “Drink that. Let me know when you’re done. Our keepers dropped off some food. They must really want you stronger, because there’s enough for us to share.”

She sipped her juice, keeping her cup balanced against a knee so she spill it. She still needed help eating, but she was stronger than she had been before. If it weren’t for the precision of getting food into her mouth, she might have managed just fine.

She was resting again when the door open and Rumlow entered, pulling a struggling woman behind him. Her hair was dark, long and shiny; she must have been sent to the pens as Laura had been. Her skin was clean despite the dirty rags she wore. Her feet were bare, her wrists tied together.

“Betty. You know Sharon, don’t you? You lived at Lehigh together.”

Rumlow grinned as Betty and Sharon looked at each other in surprise. They hadn’t seen each other for years, and Sharon had no idea what Betty had done to be brought here. Had she been part of the resistance, too? She’d been moved to another camp when Sharon was young, but surely there had been other movements against the Skull in other camps. Or did the Skull want something from her, too? Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Betty being in the resistance - maybe the Skull was punishing Thaddeus’s entire family for Thaddeus’s support of the resistance.

“And _this_ is Rollins.”

Rumlow stepped aside, and another vampire appeared. Gray-skinned and ugly, its head lifted in the air as it traced Betty’s scent; she cowered from it as it fought against its chain. Rumlow nodded to the guard holding the other end of the chain, and the guard dropped it.

As soon as the chain hit the ground, the vampire leapt at Betty.

Sharon couldn’t be sure if she screamed. She thought she did, but she could register nothing but Betty’s body hitting the floor, the vampire digging its fans into her throat, its nails into her wrists, as it tried to get as much blood as possible. The only sound in the room was the vampire devouring Betty, drinking and feeding from her piece by piece right down to sucking the marrow from her bones.

When Betty’s remains were little more than pieces of bone and flesh in a puddle, the guard pulled on Rollins’ chain, dragging him away.

Rumlow smiled down at Sharon. “The Skull wants to know if you have anything to tell him.”

Sharon stared at him, her mouth hanging open to scream even though no sound came. Her vision blurred again, and then everything went dark.

* * *

The room was quiet when she opened her eyes. Rumlow was gone. Tony leaned over a table, staring at something on its surface by candlelight. His chin was propped up in an elbow, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. She turned her head to see that the spot where Betty had died had been covered by a sheet.

She swallowed thickly. “Tony?”

He lifted his head and blinked. “Hmm?”

“You’re not going to sleep at the table, are you?” She didn’t like how her voice sounded. It was too calm. It shouldn’t be so calm when she was feet away from where someone had died.

“We’ve only got one cot, sweetheart. It’s not exactly big enough for two.”

She scooted over. “I’ll make room.”

“Seriously?” Tony looked across the room at her. Or at least, she thought he did, but the candle and furnace didn’t provide enough light for her to be sure. “You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “No?” She had never seduced anyone; she wasn’t even sure she knew how. “I just thought-” She glanced at the sheet on the floor. “I don’t know. That you would be more comfortable on the cot? I can get up for a while, if you want.” The mere thought of walking made her head spin. “Or sleep on the floor.” Her eyes fell to the sheet again, and she turned to measure how much room she had on the other side of the cot. Not much, but she could make it work.

Tony stood and stretched. He looked from her to the sheet and back again. “I guess we can make it work,” he said after a minute. Carefully, he squeezed in beside her, and she handed him a corner of the blanket so he could cover himself. “Just keep your hands to yourself, lady. I know I’m tempting, but I have standards.”

She sighed at the wall. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was beginning to understand how Bobbi had felt. 

After several minutes of silence, she whispered, “Is he going to kill more people because of me?”

He took so long to answer that she almost thought he’d fallen asleep. “He isn’t killing them because of you,” he murmured. “He’s liquidating them.”

“What- what does that mean?” She had her suspicions, but she didn’t want to be right.

“He’s killing them all,” Tony explained, shifting uncomfortably. “The Skull does it sometimes, when the camp is infected by ‘toxic thought’ or illness or something like that.”

Toxic thought. The resistance. He must have found out Maria had been working with the resistance. He was wiping out the camp to make sure he killed all of the people who supported the resistance. She swallowed and shivered.

But he didn’t know about Abe. Which meant he had found out Maria and Laura were disloyal, but he didn’t realize that they’d been working with someone outside the camp. There was a chance Daisy and Darcy were still safe, that everyone else was still safe.

Tony tucked the blanket under her chin as if the gesture were automatic. “It has nothing to do with you except to torture you. Nothing you do is going to save any of them. He’s already decided to kill them all, and that’s what he’s going to do. He knows you don’t want to see it, that’s all. He thinks you’ll tell him about Abe to get him to stop killing people.”

“But he won’t stop.”

“No. He won’t.”

They lay in silence, though Sharon doubted he was any more inclined to sleep than she was. She had never before thought that someone could destroy an entire camp, and she couldn’t believe her naivete. It was as if she’d forgotten the purpose of the breeding pens. Why would the vampires spare humans when they could kill them just as easily? If not more easily?

“He’s got my friends,” Tony whispered.

She thought back to the ball, the woman and man he had been staring at on the dais.

“He hurts them sometimes. To get me to do what he wants.” He turned his head to look at her. “I’m going to kill him. I swear to God. One day, one night, I don’t care. I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t bother saving a piece for me,” she told him. “You see a chance, you take it.”

He shifted closer to her. “And you don’t rush off to die. I know I seem tough and badass and strong - because I am. But it’s not the worst thing to have someone else around here.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder. If he weren’t so warm and the cot so uncomfortable, she could almost imagine she was back in bed and trapped between Steve and Sam. Damn it, she hoped they were all right.

“And if you’re ever tempted to tell the Skull anything,” Tony continued. “Just think of blood. Pouring out of everything. Covering everything. Red, sticky, hot blood. And that smell, right?” He took a deep breath through his nose, and her head spun.

“Fuck off, To-” She slurred. She hoped she got the rest of his name out, but she had already passed out.


	13. Subterfuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam try to discover the resistance's plan, and Steve volunteers himself for a project. Meanwhile, Sharon receives an offer she doesn't dare accept.

“Keep it up,” Fury warned.

Fury’s wish was Sam’s command, so long as it was what Sam wanted to do. Steve crossed his arms behind Sam, backing him up but letting Sam take the lead. “What,” he repeated, not for the first time, “is your plan for Sharon?”

Instead of answering, Fury looked around the room. He sat in his usual spot at the table, with Natasha and May on either side. Clint sat across from him, doing a worse job than the other two at pretending he wasn’t listening. 

“She’s all alone in there,” Sam continued. “And I know you’ve been training her, but there’s no _way_ she can hold her own against the Skull.”

Natasha and May glanced at each other, then at Fury.

Fury held up a hand, directing them to say nothing. “It’ll take a couple days to solidify the plan,” he said carefully. “We don’t have the manpower they have. Getting ourselves wiped out isn’t going to help anybody, so we’ve got to be careful. And we’ve got to hope that Sharon understands her part in things.”

“To die before she tells the Skull about you?” Sam snapped.

Natasha’s head spun toward him. “Did it occur to you that she might manage to live without telling him about us?”

“We’re all hoping she holds out,” May interjected. Her tone was unhurried, but firm. “That’s all we can do right now.”

Sam gaped between the two of them. “That’s _it?_ ” He’d never wanted to snap their necks before. “I’ve been after you to tell me what the hell Sharon was going to do for you for _nights_ , and your idea was ‘Hope that she doesn’t die or sell us out?'”

“Would you rather we sneak her some explosives and wish her the best?” Natasha demanded.

“Can we get her explosives?” Sam asked, weighing the odds of Sharon killing the vampires versus the chance of her killing herself. He glanced at Steve. If the two of them went in with the explosives themselves and got Sharon out on their own...

Steve shook his head. “They’re trying not to tell us that they’ve already got people in there. They’re taking the time to make sure the people inside know that an attack is coming and have time to prepare.” He looked to Fury. “Right?”

No one at the table spoke.

“It takes time to plan an attack that doesn’t get everyone killed right off the bat,” Fury said at last. It wasn’t exactly a confirmation, but it wasn’t a denial, either. “Now can you two shut up and let us get back to work?”

Steve nodded.

Sam stabbed a finger at the table. “But you are _not_ leaving us out of this. We’re getting Sharon back.” Only when he was sure each of them understood did he turn to leave.

* * *

She woke to warm hands against her cheek. Sharon blinked and found Bobbi looking down at her.

The woman grinned and leaned back. “You’re doing better. You still need to take it easy, but another couple days, and you should be good.”

Tony snorted from his place at the table. When he saw Bobbi staring at him in silent warning, he shrugged. “What? The Skull wants info from her. He’s not going to let her get better unless it’s to make her worse again.” He leaned over to look at Sharon. “Sorry, but it’s not like lies are going to help you, right?”

She stared back. He was right. That hadn’t even occurred to her. How had it not occurred to her? It seemed so obvious now that he had pointed it out. The Skull would keep her as weak as he could. He would keep her dispirited and scared. She took a deep breath. If he only knew that he didn’t have to drain her of blood again to make her feel weak and useless.

“They won’t help, no,” she agreed.

Bobbi looked between the two of them, realized it was pointless to argue, and sighed. “I’ll get you some more food. Tony, about the...”

His teeth flashed in the dim light as he smiled broadly. “Oh, it’ll be ready. Sharon will help me. Won’t you, Sharon?”

She blinked. “What?”

“She’ll help,” Tony told Bobbi, undeterred.

Bobbi didn’t look convinced. “She might not be strong enough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She can probably lift a horse on her mildly okay days, and I’m not going to need anything close to that.” He raised his voice. “You can lift a horse, can’t you, Shar?” Ignoring any possible response she could give, he continued. “So we’ll be fine. Besides, if this doesn’t work, we’re all dead. And then we’ll all be getting so much rest we won’t know what to do with ourselves.”

Bobbi pursed her lips. She seemed about to say something more, but then she shook her head and went to knock on the door. “Just me.” The door open, and she disappeared into the darkness beyond.

“Antechamber,” Tony said, not looking at Sharon as he worked but apparently still watching her nonetheless. Her eyes were glued on the door. “Two guards accompany her inside and stay in there while she deals with us. If we try to leave here with her, they’ll beat us back. From what I’ve heard, there are a couple guards outside the antechamber, too, waiting for somebody to try and make a break for it.”

She let her head roll until she could look at him. “I take it you’ve tried?”

He grinned, though there was no pleasure in it. “As it turns out, I have. Several times. It’s what got my last roommate, actually.” He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and made a mark on the paper. “Abe was already gone by then; Yinsen told me about him afterward.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “You know why the Skull wants Abe so bad, right?”

“Revenge for turning him. Making him...” She waved her hand in front of her face. “You know.”

Tony coughed; it could have been a laugh. “No. Not exactly.”

She frowned at him.

He smiled back.

She deepened the frown.

He smiled wider.

“Just tell me,” she snapped.

Tony held up his hands. “Abe’s a genius. Okay, backstory. Abe was from Europe. It’s where he met the Skull. But Abe was from some backwater town that only had two telephones before he went to college or something. Ridiculously small. Very old. Ancient. Like, they knew all the folklore. Especially vampire folklore.” He paused. “Did you know there was a time when people thought vampires didn’t exist?”

“He mentioned that,” she admitted.

Tony started talking so fast she wasn’t sure he’d listened to her. “Like, they had myths and stories, but not everybody thought they really existed. It was superstition. Vampires didn’t reveal themselves, didn’t have real power, no strength or anything. Most of them couldn’t take humans in a fist fight unless they trained for it. It must have been incredible.” He paused a moment, then barreled on again. “So Abe gets turned and attacks the Skull but doesn’t kill him. Years later, the Skull hunts him down and forces Abe to turn him or else watch his family die. And Abe turns him, using this serum he’d developed, and the Skull turns into, well, the Skull. He kills Abe’s wife and is about to kill Abe’s daughter when Abe is like, ‘If you do that I’ll kill myself. And then you’ll die, too.’ See, there’s this old folktale that if you kill the sire, you kill the progeny. The Skull didn’t know a lot of vampire folklore. He’d been in the Nazi’s science division. He didn’t care about folklore until Abe made a big deal about it. Abe convinced him to keep him and his daughter alive so he could work on a cure.” Tony jumped in his seat as if too enthused by his story to contain his energy. “Basically, this short, Jewish guy who wants to cure illness tricked the Skull into keeping him alive. The Skull, by the way, spent _decades_ killing people like Abe. He doesn’t think Jewish people should live unless they’re useful to him. Killed a lot of other people, too, obviously.” He held his hands out wide. “So in conclusion, the Skull wants Abe back to put him under lock and key and keep him safe.”

Sharon wasn’t as pleased with the story as Tony was. “What happened to Abe’s daughter, though?”

He made a face. “You have a knack for finding the depressing stuff in otherwise uplifting stories.” He beckoned her over. “Come here. We can get some work done before Bobbi gets back.”

“What are we doing?” With difficulty, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. She felt lightheaded for a moment, but once it passed, she almost felt like she could get to her feet.

She was still trying when Tony came over to help her. “‘We'” he announced, “are doing nothing.” He let her lean against him as he walked. “You’re assisting me as I pull off my greatest technological marvel to date.” He deposited her on a stool, put some papers on the table in front of her, and set her elbows on them. “For now, you’ll be my living, breathing paperweight. Don’t move.”

Sharon watched as Tony got deeper into his work, his pencil moving almost as fast as Steve’s paintbrush. She didn’t understand most of the symbols he wrote, and after several minutes gave up trying. Propping her chin in her hands and giving Tony a non-plussed look when he checked to make sure she hadn’t inadvertently moved his papers, her thoughts drifted back to Steve and Sam and their apartment. Sam had put all the sheets in the wash together before she had left, so the vampires wouldn’t know the three of them had been sharing a bed. That was something, at least. She just wished she’d hid the patches in her clothes better.

While she weighed the odds of the two of them being prisoners here somewhere, the door opened. Sharon turned, causing Tony to scowl and set the papers to rights.

Bobbi came in and studied the papers while setting a tray of food in front of each of them. From a large pouch at her waist, she pulled out more food for each tray. “Eat,” she instructed.

Sharon, for her part, didn’t need to be told twice. She dug in and said nothing as Bobbi cajoled Tony into eating small bites.

“We need to get Pepper and Rhodey clear,” Tony told her. “If things go to hell, you need to make sure they’re okay. Got it?”

Bobbi nodded. “I’ve got it.”

“Pass it along to Izzy. Do we know when we’re-”

Bobbi glanced at Sharon, and Tony cut himself off.

Sharon ate the last of her beans. So they were trying to escape, and as much as Tony trusted her, he didn’t trust her completely. On the other hand, Bobbi even more cautious than he was. She couldn’t blame her; even Sharon had thought that her death was the best way to not reveal something about the resistance. She still hadn’t ruled out the option. 

“Do you know if Steve and Sam are here?” she asked Bobbi.

Bobbi watched her for a moment, then refilled Sharon’s cup of juice. “They’re being hunted, which means no. The Skull let them return to their residence to see that you had been taken and sent humans during the day when they couldn’t fight back. It’s a sort of game he does. He likes messing with vamps. And people, too, of course. The humans couldn’t get in, and by nightfall, they were gone.” She hesitated. “I don’t think they’re going to be found unless they want to be, though.”

Sharon was silent for a moment. She supposed that Bobbi could be lying to her, implying that Steve and Sam were safe so that the Skull wouldn’t be able to use them against her later on, but she didn’t think so. Maybe Bobbi really was telling the truth, of maybe Sharon just wanted to believe.

“When you do... whatever it is you’re going to do,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t mind going, too.”

Tony finally looked up from his work for more than a whole second. “We’re not leaving you behind with the Skull,” he assured her. His eyes fell on his plate of food as if he had just noticed it for the first time, and he ate hungrily.

Bobbi exhaled with another long-suffering sigh.

* * *

Steve wasn’t accustomed to spending so much time underground. He was used to going outside at night, going to his gallery or going on the roof. He wasn’t sure if he was suffering from cabin fever or if it was that he wasn’t _allowed_ to leave that made him want to leave so much, but as time wore on, he felt as if the rooms got smaller and smaller.

It didn’t help that he and Sam didn’t actually belong here. They belonged in their apartment. Or, he supposed, whatever new place they could find for themselves.

The rest of the resistance belonged here. They had their own rooms, or rooms that they shared with others, and they each had assigned tasks. They knew what needed to be done, and they did it. They had spent so many years living as they did that it was a seamless dance for them. In contrast, he and Sam had little to offer. 

Not that they hadn’t tried to do something. They had spent the first hour of the evening volunteering as guinea pigs in Natasha and May’s training exercises, which hadn’t put either of them in the best of moods. Steve knew, logically, that he couldn’t bruise, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t sore from Natasha and May throwing him across the room.

Fresh blood would help. He already felt the first tinge of thirst. He and Sam needed blood, and soon. He didn’t think either he or Sam could last until they rescued Sharon.

It all culminated in him standing in Abe’s lab, listening to a young woman talk about her work. “-came here from Europe, too, only I came here from England. He came from Germany, of course. But he’s very sweet. A lot of people think he’s going to be like the Skull at first, I think, but he really isn’t at all. And he’s spending every moment trying to find a cure for vampirism. He really just wants to help people. I think it’s brilliant.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not really an illness, though, right?” He glanced around the room. “Lab” was a generous term for the place. It held three tables, the longest one against the wall of an entirely different make than the other two. Most of the lab equipment was worn and dented. The long table held jars stacked on top of each other, each holding a different ingredient. Mismatched chalkboards hung on the walls with incomprehensible notes, and each table was covered by papers.

“Well, technically, it is. It has a lot in common with parasites, but it’s really a virus that needs blood to survive. It’s why vampires need to drink blood from humans, because their bodies can’t produce blood on their own anymore. It’s weird when you look at it, because not only can it not survive without a host, but it changes its host body into something that would kill it. It needs blood from the host, but the host can no longer produce blood. So it does the next-best thing - it makes the host a predator. Stronger and faster. Practically immortal, so long as they get blood. So the virus forces the host to be a parasite, essentially. It’s truly fascinating.” She paused and considered. “Not fascinating how they kill humans when they get carried away, but- well. You know what I mean.”

Steve looked away. This was turning out to be an unexpectedly awkward conversation. As much as he recognized that he needed blood to survive, it was still awkward to be called a parasite for it. After all, it wasn’t as if the people he fed from died from it.

“Not that I expect you’re like that,” the woman said quickly. “Not- I mean, you _are,_ but you can’t help it. You need it to survive.” Nervous, she began straightening pieces of paper on the table. “So. Um. Not your fault. You know. Necessarily.”

He raised an eyebrow as he translated what she must mean by that. The “necessarily.” No, it hadn’t been his fault that he’d been turned. But it _was_ his fault for trying to survive by leeching off others like Peggy and Sharon. What was he supposed to do, though? _Not_ try to survive? Die of thirst? Let Sam die, too? He didn’t want to die when he hadn’t had a say in what had happened to him in the first place.

The woman started lining up the pencils on the table.

Steve shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “So... the cure you’re working on? What would it do?”

She looked far too relieved at the change in subject. “Kill the virus, first. So people wouldn’t need to drink blood to live. They could just... live normally? Except for during the day, of course. Dr. Erskine wants to isolate the beneficial aspects and find a way to keep those, but that might be more of a long-term solution. The important thing right now is that we have a way to kill the virus.”

“Even if it kills the host?”

She pulled some of her notes closer. “I don’t know about you, but I’m certainly never going to feel safe with the Skull in charge.” She glanced at him for a moment, and he wondered if he was imagining her expression of distaste.

He blinked at her in alarm as he realized she was comparing him to the Skull. He wanted to argue that he was nothing like the Skull, _nothing,_ but he doubted he’d be able to convince her during the course of a conversation. Even Sharon hadn’t trusted him, and they’d spent months together.

Of course, he’d fed from Sharon, so maybe she’d been right not to trust him.

He cleared his throat. “So how close are you?”

She shrugged. “When Dr. Erskine was the Skull’s prisoner, he had access to an entire lab. He thought he had come up with solution, the closest thing to the serum as it was meant to be, but he lost it after he escaped. We’ll never know what happened to it. He spent years trying to recreate it, but we’ve been... limited. And of course, with the new plan of attack, now we’re working on developing something new.” She was quiet for a moment as she flipped through her notes. “It shouldn’t kill the host. Dr. Erskine doesn’t want to kill anyone. Right now, we’re just looking for a way to kill the virus. So for you, you would still be like you, just human.” She flashed him a tight grin. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Steve leaned against the wall. This entire conversation was giving him plenty to worry about. “So you’re trying to kill the virus without killing the host, unless you have to kill the host,” he surmised. “And you’re starting from scratch because...”

For the first time since he’d come into the room, she looked impatient. “New plan, new strategy. Just on limited funds and with less time than ever.” She looked down at her notes. “He can’t get us test subjects, either. Not as if we have enough people to spare.”

He frowned. “Would it help if I volunteered? As a test subject?”

She turned to frown at him. “You would do that?”

He shrugged. “I need to do something. Everybody else here is. I’m just sitting around going nothing. So yeah.” He paused. “I’d rather not die, though. I’ve got some promises to keep.”

For the first time, she smiled brightly. “How about a blood sample first? And Dr. Erskine and I will determine if it’s likely to harm you, and if it is, we won’t do it.”

“Deal.” Steve nodded, then paused. He hadn’t had blood drawn in so long it took him a moment to remember to roll up his sleeve.

“I’m Jemma, by the way. Sorry about the late introduction, I just don’t think it’s right to take someone’s blood without making introductions. That’s probably weird. But we wouldn’t want to be rude, right?”

Steve grinned. “It’s fine. I’m Steve, by the way.”

* * *

Sharon woke when Tony startled beside her. She lifted her head from the table and swayed dangerously. Hands steadied her, and she slowly remembered that she’d been sitting on a stool. She blinked until she could make out Tony’s features.

“If she’s so ill, why isn’t she lying down?”

She looked at Tony in confusion. She knew that voice. How did she know that voice?

Tony didn’t spare her a glance. “I was using her as a paperweight.”

“A paperweight,” the voice repeated.

Sharon nearly turned around. Yes. She knew that voice. She couldn’t believe it. She paused, then took a deep breath. If the Skull wanted to keep her weak, he could make her weak. But Tony had convinced them she was too weak to do anything to earlier. If she continued the ruse, maybe that would buy her more time to heal.

Head lolling, she twisted to look at the speaker.

And there stood Raina, so gorgeous in the filthy room that she looked almost like a mirage. Her silver dress with blue flowers reflected the firelight, and her hair and makeup were pristine. Sharon felt a stab of jealousy; even in her nicest dress, she’d never managed to look as beautiful as Raina.

Though she was _never_ going to let Raina know Sharon thought she was pretty _now._

“Raina?” she slurred. Tony glanced at her. “What’re you doing here?”

Raina stepped nearer and glared at Tony until he moved away. She probably didn’t want the grime and soot that covered Tony to sully her dress. Once Raina stood beside Sharon, she smiled down at her. “I suggested to Emperor Schmidt that you might respond better to a woman. Men can be...” She trailed off as she sought the right word, or maybe the pause was deliberate. “Forceful.”

Sharon didn’t disagree. She didn’t say anything aloud, though, merely let her head slip forward a little. She tried to make her gaze go in and out of focus.

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Raina tsked and shook her head. “I’m sorry they did that to you. I’m sure they’ll treat you better once you help them. It doesn’t sound as if they’re asking for much.” She stroked Sharon’s hair with cold fingers; Sharon knew how filthy her hair must be by how light her touch was. “How about this? You don’t have to tell me what they want to know - I wouldn’t ask that of you. But why don’t you tell me something else. Something small and inconsequential. And I’ll tell Emperor Schmidt. That way, no one gets hurt, and maybe he’ll send me back to visit you instead of Rumlow. We can talk some more, just you and me. No violence at all.” She smiled winsomely; Sharon noticed that Raina’s teeth didn’t show.

Sharon swallowed. She knew she couldn’t trust Raina. She knew the offer was likely a lie. But it sounded good. Logical. If she said something that didn’t matter, what harm could it do? What could the Skull do with knowing something like Natasha slipped her extra food sometimes or Steve included the sun in his paintings?

Because it would do harm. She didn’t know how, but it would.

She took a heavier breath than normal. How had she breathed when she’d first woken up? Breathing had been weird, but how had it gone exactly? Right. It had been slow and steady, like Steve and Sam’s when they were exerting themselves enough to bother breathing. 

“Can I think about it?” she asked. “I don’t want to get anyone hurt.”

“Of course,” Raina said. The tone was faintly condescending, but Sharon didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be spoken to, and condescension meant Raina thought she could be condescended to, that she was lesser. That she was weak. She could use that. “I can’t promise you all the time you need, but I’ll certainly try to warn you before time runs out.”

“Is that what you did?” Sharon asked, her voice small. “Sell information to the Skull so you would be treated better?”

Raina pressed a finger to her lips. “You really should call him Emperor Schmidt,” she warned. After a moment, she straightened. “And I was honor-bound to report you. I took no pleasure in it, but vampires are supposed to take care of their humans, and Steve and Sam were not taking care of you. You need to take the stairs for your health, and if your clothes were patched, it just shows that your owners are taking poorer care of you behind closed doors. All Emperor Schmidt wants is for you to have the best care you deserve. The best way to do that,” she continued, as if the idea had just dawned on her, “is to tell him what he wants to know. If you can keep Emperor Schmidt happy, I’m sure he’d help you. Better owners. Less work.” She looked down her nose as she looked around the room. “Cleaner quarters.”

Sharon bit her lip.

“At least promise me you’ll think of something to tell me tomorrow night,” Raina coaxed. “I’m sure Emperor Schmidt will allow me to visit you again tomorrow if I tell him you’ll pass along information for him.”

She swallowed. Raina _would_ be a better visitor to have again than Rumlow. She nodded, then swayed.

Raina reached to steady her, then remembered how dirty Sharon was and pulled her hands away. “I’ll be sure to pass along the news,” she said cheerfully. “And I’ll have some water sent up so you can take a bath.” She smiled cheerfully. “It’s good to see someone from home, isn’t it?”

Raina wasn’t on the list of the top fifty people that Sharon wanted to see from home, and she only knew three people from the apartment building by name. Nonetheless, she started to nod, buried her face in her hands as if the movement made her too dizzy, and whispered, “Yeah.”

She heard Raina make a satisfactory sound, and moments later, there was a light knocking sound followed by the heavy clang of the door. Then there was a dimmer clang as Raina left the antechamber, then, finally, silence.

Sharon sighed and leaned against the table.

Tony stared at her. “That was... unexpected.”

Had she not done the right thing? She didn’t have the same experience with spying that Natasha and May had. “If the Skull is leaving me alone until I’m stronger...” She trailed off, replaying the conversation in her mind. Had she screwed up somehow?

“No,” Tony said. “No, I get it.” He pulled papers from beneath a book and began arranging them on the table.

“Did I do too much?” Sharon pressed, starting to worry.

Tony grinned. “No, I think you passed inspection. Vamps aren’t great at human healthcare, I’ve noticed. I just wish I’d thought of doing that earlier.” He licked his lips as he studied his designs. “Nah. I couldn't lose time on this even if I wanted to.”

She gingerly touched the bandage at her neck. “Rumlow really sucks.” It was the only explanation she could give. She didn’t want his teeth in her again. 

He followed her hand and nodded. “I’ll change that bandage, and then you can help me with this.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, you know. A way to save my friends and kill the Skull.” He went over to the cot to get the small first aid box Bobbi had left with them. “And next time? Tell her you like apples. Maybe she’ll get us some to butter you up.”

Sharon whistled. “Wow. I say _I_ like apples, and suddenly you think you’re going to get apples, too?”

Tony jabbed a finger at her. “This smithy isn’t big enough for two assholes,” he warned.

“Maybe I can get cleaner quarters,” Sharon teased. She pulled her hair up to let Tony work, secretly thinking that she was lucky to have been thrown in here with him. There were far worse people to be imprisoned with. Even if he was an asshole.


	14. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes through with a dangerous experiment and meets his maker; Sharon works with a maker of her own. Sam tries to read a novel but ends up being two upset with them both to make any headway.

Steve and Sam sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor and read some of the books they’d found in the meager library. Steve hadn’t read _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ since he was a kid. He’d devoured it in hours back then. Now he could read it five times in half as long. But it was either another go at _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ or a handbook on assault rifles the Skull’s forces sometimes used. The handbook was so depressing he was almost glad to be stuck with _The Scarlet Pimpernel._

He was relieved when Jemma and a short, bald man walked in, and he set the book aside without a second thought. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “Jemma. Dr. Erskine, I presume?”

“Yes, yes,” the man said quickly, shaking Steve’s hand with both of his own. “And you are Steve Rogers. Sam.” He nodded to the man still sitting on the floor. “Good to see you again!”

Sam looked between the three of them. He’d been able to snag the copy of _War and Peace,_ but Steve doubted his mind had been on it. He got to his feet and shook the man’s hand as well. “Uh, yeah. Good to see you, too, Abe.”

“Likewise, likewise.” The man beamed at them both, but his gaze settled on Steve again. “Jemma has shown me your blood sample. May I ask you some questions?”

Steve felt Sam’s eyes boring into the back of his head and cringed as he remembered he hadn’t told Sam about the cure Jemma and Dr. Erskine wanted to test. He had thought Sam had enough to worry about given everything else that was going on. “Sure.” He glanced back at Sam in silent apology before turning back to the scientists. “Is there a problem with the sample?”

Abe shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I was just surprised to see how weak the virus was in your blood.”

“We’ve never seen so little of it,” Jemma said excitedly. “But as far as we could tell, you seem healthy in all other respects.”

“Weak,” Steve repeated. “So... I’m a weak vampire?” That made sense, he supposed. He’d been a weak human, too.

But Abe was shaking his head again. “Not at all. You’re merely more human than the rest of us. For instance, when was the last time you fed?”

Steve looked back to Sam. “The day before the Ball,” he said at last. “I didn’t want Sharon to have to worry about bite marks the day of the Ball.”

Jemma squeaked in excitement and made a note on a piece of paper.

Abe was more reserved. “That was five nights ago,” he said slowly in muted surprise. But a small light in his eyes gained strength. “And you are not thirsty yet? Not tempted to attack any of the humans here?”

Steve held up his hands. “I’d been feeding more because I had to put up with the Skull on a nightly basis. I’m a little thirsty, and I’ll probably need to feed before we save Sharon, but no. I’m not going to attack anyone.”

“Neither of us are,” Sam said firmly. From the sound of it, he was just as worried as Steve that they might be kicked out if the resistance suspected they might attack someone. 

“And how long has it been since you fed, Sam?” Abe asked.

“Six days?” Sam glanced at Steve and shifted his weight. Sam had to be thirstier than Steve was, and Steve hadn’t even taken that into consideration when thinking about how they needed to get blood.

Abe’s eyebrows shot up. “And you are not thirsty, either?”

“ _No._ ” Sam hesitated. “A little. But not enough to attack anybody.”

“I see.” Abe eyes shifted toward Jemma, who was scribbling notes as quickly as she could. He smiled at Sam. “Could we take a blood sample from you as well? You two lived together, correct?”

They nodded, and Sam gave another nod to Jemma when she looked up at him so she could record their response. She beamed at him, and Steve thought wryly that she seemed more enthusiastic about taking blood than he and Sam ever had.

“Did you have the same sire?”

This time, Steve didn’t look at Sam, but he felt Sam look at him. They’d known each other long enough that they didn’t necessarily have to speak to know what the other was thinking. This time, though, the circumstances were different. They’d never told anyone before because their lives were on the line. This time, a cure was on the line. A cure that meant they wouldn’t have to feed off humans anymore.

“I turned him,” he admitted quietly. He sneaked a glance at Sam to make sure he was okay, and Sam quickly masked his shock. Not entirely okay, then. They’d have to talk later. “Whoever turned me abandoned me. Sam was the first person I saw, and I was so thirsty I attacked him. I wasn’t thinking. When I saw what I had done, I turned him.”

Abe nodded. For several moments, the only sound in the room was Jemma’s pencil as it scritched across the page. “When was this?” Abe asked at last.

“1956,” Steve said.

Jemma’s pencil stopped moving. “1956? But that means you’re both younger than the War.”

Sam crossed his arms. “We lied about when we were turned. As far as the Skull’s concerned, I got turned in the Civil War, and Steve got turned in 1921. I knew some people. My family got wiped out before I found Steve, and I’d been on my way to them anyway. They helped us with the paperwork.”

“You adopted Sharon with false papers,” Abe said carefully. “That is-” he glanced at Jemma. “I believe you call it ‘gutsy.'”

She blew air out of her cheeks and kept taking notes. Steve wondered if he ought to be nervous. Was she transcribing the conversation? Or had they just given the resistance leverage over them?

“Do you know who turned you?” Abe asked.

Steve shrugged. “Never got a look.”

He nodded, then hesitated. “So Sam was turned in 1956. And you?”

Steve hesitated. “1946?”

They both gaped at him.

He shrugged and swallowed. “The Skull had declared already victory. Vampires were coming over from Europe. The world was falling apart. The US Army took all the able-bodied people left in camp to stage a last stand, but they took one look at me and said a vamp would have more trouble getting through a sheet of paper. My best friend growing up had a little sister in Brooklyn, so I figured I’d head back home and look after her. Never got there.” And Rebecca was probably as dead as her brother now. He didn’t know if she’d been killed or sent to the camps first. After a while, he had taken it for granted that he would never know. It wasn’t the only loose end from his old life.

“You went without blood for ten _years,_ ” Jemma asked in astonishment.

Steve looked between them and Sam. Was that weird? “I was really thirsty,” he said at last.

“No vampire’s ever survived that long,” she continued. She blinked, realized she hadn’t written anything down in several seconds, and hurried to correct the situation.

“It could be because the virus was weaker in you,” Abe murmured. “It took longer to consume your blood, thus, you had more blood in order to survive.” He paused. “Tell me about how you were turned.”

Steve looked back to Sam, the only other being on earth who knew the details of how he had been turned. Sam shrugged and gave him a faint nod. After all, they were in too deep to turn back now. “There’s not much to tell. I was walking home. Someone attacked me from behind.”

“Fed from you from behind?” Abe cut in.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t remember. I didn’t even realize what was happening at first; I’d never experienced anything like it. It felt like being stabbed.”

“In the neck,” Abe interrupted again.

Steve nodded. “Hurt like hell, too. Like my whole body was burning.” He shrugged again. “Can’t tell you much more than that. Next thing I knew, I was in a small cave. Didn’t know how much time had passed until Sam found me.”

Abe was quiet. Jemma didn’t look up from her dictation.

“The cave was stopped up with a big rock,” Sam offered. “I had to pry it open with a stick. Heard tapping from inside. Thought it might be other humans that vamps had left in there to starve.”

Jemma paused long enough to blink up at him. “And didn’t it occur to you that there might be a vampire inside?”

Sam nodded. There was something feral about his grin. “But my whole family had been wiped out. Figured if it wasn’t a human, well, good for me. I was in the mood to fight every damn vampire I saw. Wasn’t thrilled when I woke up after Steve killed me, but it was hard not to feel bad for him.” His grin faded. “He didn’t know where he was, what year it was. Kept apologizing. Became clear pretty fast he had been as much a victim as I was.”

Steve crossed his arms and kept his eyes on the floor. He hadn’t thought about how freaked out Sam had been in decades. Hadn’t thought about how freaked out _he’d_ been. After all he’d done to Sam, Sam was still the one who had helped him readjust to his new life, and they’d managed to muddle through their new existence together. They’d become family.

The room went quiet again.

“And did you look like this when you were turned?” Abe asked at last, waving a hand to indicate Steve’s body.

Steve glanced down at himself. “No. I was ninety pounds soaking wet.”

“Sickly?”

“More often than not, yeah.”

Abe turned to Sam. “And you? Did you see changes after you turned?”

Sam shrugged. “Bit more muscle mass? But I was always pretty fit. If I say so myself.” As much as it sounded like a joke, his grin didn’t reach his eyes. “Was always pretty healthy, though. Never had time to be sick.”

Abe was quiet again. He fidgeted, went still, then fidgeted again. “I owe you an apology,” he said at last, somber. “And yet I have a significant favor to ask of you. I believe the vampire who attacked you was, in fact, me.” Jemma gasped and opened her mouth to speak; he held up a finger, asking for a moment before she asked whatever questions had sprung to her mind. “I can offer you an explanation, but it would sound much like an excuse. What I did was- it was an awful thing. I turned you without your consent and then abandoned you. I planned on returning, but for many, many years I could not. In truth, I came to believe you were dead, turned to dust by the sun or by some other means, and that the cure I had worked on for so long was lost. I hope, however, I sincerely hope that you will allow us to take more of your blood to finish the cure.” He looked steadily at Steve, his eyes imploring. “I cannot stress enough how vital it is- how vital _you > are.”_

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He had wondered for decades who had changed him, and now here he was with the vampire himself. In his mind, he had always pictured this as some sort of elaborate confrontation. He had thought the vamp that had turned him would be larger, would be like the bullies who had beaten him up in so many alleys. He had thought the vampire who turned him would be a monster in every sense of the word.

Instead, the vamp that had turned him was a short, bald man who helped the human resistance and apologized for hurting Steve.

Sam cleared his throat, and Steve realized he had been staring at Abe without responding. He should say something. They had work to do, he thought dimly. They had to get Sharon back. They had to find a way for him, Sam, and Sharon to be safe from the Skull. 

What came out instead was, “Why did you leave me in that cave?” He took a gulp of air. “If- If you didn’t mean to turn me, or you felt badly about it, why didn’t you come back for me?”

Abe hung his head. “I tried. Johann had his forces hunting me. I ran every night I was able. I led them away from you as best I could, but then I did not know where I was or where I could go. I had only been to the country as Johann’s prisoner. I did not find the resistance right away. As a matter of fact, a young man named Hunter introduced me to them only a few years ago.” He hesitated. “I had hoped to return sooner,” he said at last. “But I could not so long as Johann remained in the country. He sent humans and vampires alike after me, and the cave was too near his forces, and I was afraid I might lead him to you, or be captured myself and never reach you. As it was, Johann nearly recaptured me several times. By the time I managed to return, you were gone. I doubted Johann had found you, given that there was never any news. But... there was never any news. After a couple decades, I gave up hope that you had survived.” His eyes crinkled. “Although I must admit, I was looking for someone much smaller.”

Steve leaned back. To say the conversation was a lot to digest was an understatement. He had questions for Abe, and he wasn’t sure he had the time to ask them all.

He had to focus. Identify what was important. Identify what he could do to make it happen. He would talk to Abe later. Once he had time to think things over.

He took a breath. “You say you can use my blood for a cure?”

Relieved, Abe nodded. “If you would be so kind as to let us. Johann gave me access to everything I might need for a cure for him, but in truth I was working on a cure for the vampire virus itself. I could not take any notes with me. I confess, when I turned you, I thought more of keeping the serum safe from Johann than of what impact it might have on you.”

That wasn’t what Steve had wanted to hear. He swallowed. He’d at least hoped that Abe had turned him for a better reason than that he was simply convenient, a weak human in the wrong place at the wrong time. He crossed his arms and forced himself to focus. He and Abe would talk later. Stopping the Skull was more important than their personal drama. And to stop the Skull, they needed to stop him from turning people into vampires. They couldn’t kill the Skull only for another vampire to take his place - they had to destabilize the entire system.

And they had to stop treating humans like farm animals. Peggy had made Steve promise to look after Sharon. Even if this wasn’t exactly what she had meant, the end of vampires - the end of the _Skull_ \- would ultimately make Sharon safer.

Even if Steve had doubts about his own complicity in the system, he knew Peggy would want the vampires gone.

“Take all you need.”

* * *

“This is going to get us killed,” Sharon huffed.

“Not if you do what you’re supposed to.” Tony’s voice was calm; he was too focused on his work to pay much attention to the conversation. “Higher.”

Sharon groaned and did her best to lift the slab of metal higher. She hadn’t sweated this much in months. “Bobbi said I was supposed to get rest, remember?”

 _That_ got his attention. He paused long enough to study her for a moment. Evidently, he didn’t think she needed rest right then. “Sleep when you’re dead.” He went back to work.

She grit her teeth, again thinking how Bobbi had been right when she’d said Tony was a good guy, but also an ass.

“We’ve got another couple of hours until sunrise, and then Bobbi will come by,” he said after another couple of minutes. “Hold out until then.”

She took a breath. She could do that. She wouldn’t like it, but she could do it. She shifted her grip and fought to keep her arms from shaking.

* * *

“You’re already almost done?” Steve asked in disbelief. He and Sam had offered to inventory some of the supply closets. They’d gotten through six of them before Jemma found them and told them to come to the lab immediately.

“Is it good or bad news?” Steve asked as they followed her. She was grinning, but he wasn’t sure if it was her cheerful grin or a professional one.

“Good. _Definitely_ good.” She beamed at them both, and Steve tried not to feel anxious about seeing Abe again. He’d told himself he was leaving Abe alone so he could work, but in truth, Steve had wanted to get away from him for a while. Finding out who had made him and why was a lot to process. He hadn’t even talked it over with Sam yet, though Sam had glanced at him, waiting for him to say something about it.

It seemed Abe was just as apprehensive. He flashed them a large smile as they entered the room, then quickly averted his eyes. “Excellent news!” he announced. “Together with the serum and Jemma’s notable genius, we believe we’ve found the cure. Jemma told me that you had volunteered to test the cure.” He glanced briefly at Steve, then quickly dropped his eyes to a notebook on the table. “Are you still willing?”

“Like hell he is,” Sam snapped.

“Sam,” Steve snapped.

Sam wheeled on him. “And _you_ need to start telling me about stuff like this,” he hissed. He pressed his lips together. “You are _not_ trying some experimental cure. There’s nothing wrong with you!”

Steve glared at him. As if he was the only one here who had kept secrets lately. “You didn’t like that we bought Sharon. This is how we stop that. This is how we stop all people from being bought and treated like animals.”

“And stop the Skull,” Jemma interjected. “Even though, if we’re being technical, the two are connected.”

“Causation and correlation,” Abe said lightly.

Jemma’s cheeks turned pink. “Right.” She walked around the table. “Shall we get on with it, then?

Steve continued to watch Sam. He understood that the two had hurt each other more in the past week than they had since they had first met. He liked to think they hadn’t damaged their friendship irreparably, but he had to acknowledge that if their friendship was in trouble, he’d had as much a part to play as Sam had.

It must have shown on his face. The next thing he knew, Sam shoved him aside. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly.

“Sam,” Steve said quietly.

“It would be best to test it on him.” Abe nodded to Steve. “We’ve synthesized his blood for the cure. He has the strongest chance for survival.” He paused. “Though if the test is successful, we will obviously need more subjects, yes?” Steve caught his eye, and Abe quickly turned away as if having realized how callous that sounded.

“If something happens to me,” Steve murmured to Sam, “you need to make sure Sharon is okay.”

Sam’s face fell. “You think I’m going to just stand aside while you-”

“That’s what I’m asking you to do, yeah.” Steve noticed that Abe and Jemma had both backed away and busied themselves with other tasks, giving him and Sam space. “I volunteered. I want to contribute. And we can’t keep on going like we have. Neither of us want things the way they are now, and this is a way to change that.”

“And why can’t I do it instead?”

“Well.” Steve grinned. “No matter if this works or not, I think you’re next up.”

Sam made a face. “You know I really hate you sometimes, right?”

His grin widened, and he bumped Sam’s shoulder with his. “Yeah. I guessed as much.”

Sam scowled. “I’m staying for the test,” he announced, loud enough for Abe and Jemma to hear. “Somebody’s gotta take his stupid corpse away if things go to hell.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, glaring at the two scientists from across the room.

“Understood,” Abe answered. He waved Steve closer and nodded to a seat.

Steve wavered for a moment. This was the man who had turned him and left him to starve. How much could he really trust him?

But if he didn’t do the test himself, then Sam might do it instead. Steve wasn’t going to let Sam get himself killed. He’d taken responsibility for Sam as soon as he had turned him. Unlike _some_ people. Even if he hadn’t done so, Sam was his friend. He was family. 

He sat in the chair. “It’s going to be hard for you to attack me from behind like this, Doc.”

“Ha,” Abe said, not without humor. “I’m glad I turned someone who can tell jokes at a time such as this.” He cautiously looked Steve in the eye. “When this is over, perhaps, we can talk.”

Steve nodded and clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’d like that.” He thought he would, at least. God only knew what bombs Abe could drop on him during a whole conversation. Steve could only hope he didn’t have vampire siblings somewhere. “So... what do you need me to do?” He pointed at his neck, dreading having his throat bitten into or torn, and he wondered if this was how Sharon felt every time they fed from her.

Damn it. He hadn’t treated Sam or Sharon nearly as well as he should have.

Abe stood awkwardly for a moment. “Actually.” He gestured to his shirt. “You could lift that.”

“Or take it off,” Jemma murmured to herself.

Sam snorted.

Her head popped up. “To prevent it from getting in the way,” she said quickly. “That’s all.” She looked at each of them as they stared back at her, then quickly bent her head over the clipboard again.

Sam made a sound in his throat that said he desperately wanted to make fun of Steve some more.

Steve glared at him and pulled his shirt up.

And then nearly dropped it as he saw Abe pick up one of the biggest syringes he’d ever seen. “Uh...”

Abe flashed him a grin. “This might pinch.”

It was the only warning Steve got before Abe stabbed him in the heart.

* * *

“WHAT THE HELL?” Sam demanded, running forward. He shoved Abe out of the way and grabbed for the syringe, then hesitated. He didn’t want to risk hurting Steve by disturbing it. A strangled cry broke free of Steve’s through. Sam’s hand hovered over the syringe, his fingers flexing as he debated pulling it out, but then Steve gasped and doubled over, and Sam hopped away, then reached forward to steady Steve’s shoulder so he didn’t fall on the floor. “What did you do?” he shouted at Abe. “What did you _do?_ ”

Abe ran to Steve’s side, pressing his ear to Steve’s back. He checked that the syringe was empty and pulled it out. “The virus in him is dying.”

Steve groaned, his arms spasming.

“Jemma.” Abe spoke quickly. “Go get Natasha.” 

Jemma nodded and ran out of the room.

“Is he dying?” Sam demanded. He wrapped his arms around Steve, trying to pin his arms down. Steve doubled over, moaning in pain.

“The virus is.” Abe struggled to hold down Steve’s legs as they began to thrash.

He sounded worried. Sam glared at him as they held Steve. Natasha soon appeared at Steve’s side and gently pushed Abe out of the way as she took over pinning down his legs.

Abe checked for a pulse, checked for breathing. Sam watched as Steve’s body went lax in his arms.

“You’d better not die on me, Steve,” he muttered. “You do, I’m killing the hell out of you.”

Natasha glanced at him but said nothing.

Sam froze.

No, he hadn’t imagined it.

There it was again, stronger this time.

Slowly, he let go of Steve and backed away from him.

“What is it?” Abe asked.

Sam couldn’t take his eyes off of Steve. “He’s got a heartbeat.”

* * *

When Steve woke, Sam, Abe, and Natasha were asleep around him. Jemma sat at a table nearby, alternately writing and chewing on a pencil.

He tried to stand and grunted. His body felt stiff, but it only lasted a moment. He blinked slowly, then stretched his arms.

Jemma’s head popped up, and she set her pencil aside before walking over. “Good morning!”

“Good night,” he corrected automatically.

“Actually, dawn broke less than half an hour ago.” Jemma waved a hand at the three lying on the floor. “Sam insisted on not being moved, but I think that was only because he was worried about you. I’ll ask Trip if he can get them all into beds. Not that I’ve ever noticed Dr. Erskine or Natasha waking up sore, but it would still be nice, don’t you think?”

He stared at her. “Dawn broke?”

She nodded. “And you’re awake. So that’s one of our tests accomplished right away.” She grinned at him. “Dr. Erskine also wanted to know if you could go outside without being injured. Darcy says the sun will be in the market soon, if you want to try it. We’ll have to take precautions, since you’re a human, but it shouldn’t be too dangerous.” She pressed the flat end of a stethoscope against his chest and listened for a moment. She made a note on a chart next to Steve. “How are you feeling?”

He gaped at her. He still couldn’t believe that he was awake during the day. He hadn’t been awake during the day in decades. Well, other than the time Sharon had woken him up. But then he’d barely been awake. Now he was... more than awake. He was _alive._

His stomach growled loudly enough that Jemma looked at him in surprise.

“Maybe we can get a drink first,” he said, more than a little embarrassed. It had been a long time since his stomach had made noise like that.

“Eggs and bacon,” Jemma said decisively. “Something solid. You’ll like that after all this time, I’ll bet.”

Steve groaned and nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Let’s _eat_ first.” Not drink. Eat. Now that he thought about actual food, he was even hungrier.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being a human.


	15. Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam follows Steve's lead and does something that can't be undone. Sharon and Tony do something they shouldn't have.

Sharon woke to someone shaking her shoulder.

“Eat up,” Bobbi murmured. She sat on the cot beside Sharon and watched Tony work.

Sharon followed her line of sight. “I’m not sure he’s slept,” she said quietly. She surveyed the food on the tray. Oatmeal. Strawberries. Toast. Bacon. She pointed to it. “How much of this does the Skull want me to have?”

Bobbi grinned. “Let’s just say you’re lucky to have me as a guard.”

She returned Bobbi’s grin with a sleepy one of her own before digging in. She wished they’d had guards like Bobbi at Camp Lehigh. Maybe Sharon would have thought better of such people. Maybe Maria would still be alive.

Bobbi turned her attention to the man currently bent over what appeared to be a collection of broke and twisted wires. “ _Tony._ ”

“I’ll eat in a minute,” he said, not looking up.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “You need to eat before it gets cold.”

“Or before I eat it instead,” Sharon added.

Without any further comment, Tony reached out and pulled his tray closer. It didn’t escape Sharon’s notice that it meant that Tony’s tray was now farther away from _her._ His hand dropped, and she and Bobbi looked at each other. A moment later, and Tony grabbed a piece of bacon without looking. That one piece of food seemed to whet his appetite. In seconds, his plate was empty. “Bobbi. While you’re here, you can help hold things for me. Weakling over there isn’t ready for it.”

Sharon held up a strawberry. “If this weren’t food, I’d throw it at you.”

“And you’d miss.” He nodded to Bobbi, and Bobbi got up with a sigh.

“Get strong fast,” she murmured forlornly to Sharon.

* * *

Steve was still ecstatic when Sam woke. Steve had gone outside twice, careful to avoid the human guards that kept humans on curfew. It had been worth it to feel the sun on his face. Jemma had even given him time to enjoy it between questions like, “Are you certain you’re feeling no ill effects?” and “You’re skin _is_ turning pink. Are you sure you’re not about to explode in flames?” He’d assured her that it was just because his skin was so sensitive after not having been exposed to sunlight in so long, probably, and continued to stand there until Darcy signaled a guard was on his way.

He’d eaten food for the first time in decades and remembered that he loathed asparagus. It was his first time sitting in the kitchen to eat, and he’d had to ask Jemma if it was normal for so many humans to stop by for a couple snacks only to stop by later for a couple more. How hungry could he expect to be throughout the day now? She’d assured him that they likely just wanted to see the world’s first former vampire eating. Not even the idea that he was a circus attraction had been enough to dull his appetite.

Darcy had insisted on showing him the plants underground, and she and Daisy had taken him through the rows as Jemma asked if the light was bothering him at all. Darcy and Daisy had talked about how Sharon had helped with the fungus on the plants and had shared tips on growing food better. He had known she had friends here, but he hadn’t realized how much she had _done._

The “physical assessment” with May had been the worst part of the day by far. Steve wasn’t as fast as he had been, though he still seemed faster than May. And yet, she managed to drop him more than he got hits in on her, and he was left staring up at her wondering how the hell she’d managed that.

It was the first time he’d suffered any bruises in decades, and he loved it. He had forgotten so much about being human. The pain, the sun’s warmth on his face, the cool of the dark underground hallways. Even his clothes felt different. He hadn’t realized that as much as his hearing and vision had improved as a vampire, it had cost him much of his ability to feel.

“You heal faster,” Jemma noted after measuring one of his bruises after taking another blood test. “Dr. Erskine will be pleased.”

Steve looked down at the ground. “So this is what he meant me to be all along, huh?”

“If all of these results are valid, then yes. This is what he meant everyone to be.”

Steve hadn’t said much as she reviewed the notes and then announced, “Let’s see how fast you can run.” She’d asked Trip to help, and Steve laughed as he passed Trip multiple times on the impromptu track through the building and Trip called him Go Go Grandpa.

It was, in short, one of the best days of his existence. If Sam and Sharon had been with him, it would have been perfect.

And now that the sun was setting, it was finally time for Sam to wake up. Steve settled in beside him to wait.

Sam stirred, and Steve grinned in anticipation. He leaned forward.

Sam’s eyes blinked open, then he registered Steve’s wide grin and jumped back against the wall. Steve laughed.

Glaring at him, Sam eased back onto the cot, looking around as if wondering how he’d gotten there from the lab. “Don’t do that, man!” he snapped. “Waking up with you showing your teeth at me like that? I thought you were gonna eat me!”

Steve couldn’t stop smiling. He touched his canine teeth. “I don’t think I could if I tried,” he admitted.

Sam gaped at him. “It worked?”

Steve nodded. “Which means they’re going to need another test subject. If you’re willing.”

Sam flashed him a grin. “I go where you go, man.”

* * *

Sharon had managed to stay awake for hours. She didn’t know precisely how long - there were no clocks here, not even a radio, and no way to judge the passage of time. She supposed it was intentional, a way to keep her and Tony discombobulated and confused. Reliant on the Skull for information.

But Tony didn’t seem reliant on the Skull in the slightest. If he was awake, he was working. If he was asleep, he was up almost immediately to get more work done. When he really got going, he hardly seemed aware that Sharon was in the room, and yet, unless he had her hold something or do some other small thing for him (like painting some pieces of metal red) he was vigilant in making sure she ate and rested.

Normally, she might have found it sweet. But she was rested enough that being told to rest just made her want to do something more. She still hadn’t heard anything about Steve and Sam, and it had been _nights._

Tony was stubborn enough to insist, but so was she. They were bickering about it amiably as Sharon painted another piece of metal and Tony assembled a couple others when the outer door clanged open. They locked eyes, then sprang into motion, hiding everything they were working on.

He glared at her and grabbed a piece from her. He stabbed a finger at the bed.

She had just laid down when Raina walked in.

“Feeling better?” Raina asked. If she noticed anything amiss, she gave no indication.

Sharon didn’t have to pretend that she was shaking as she rolled over to face Raina. She nodded and closed her eyes. How weak should she pretend to be? She should have thought of this ahead of time, damn it.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking. And apples. I’ll tell you something about them for apples.”

Raina’s eyes brightened when Sharon said she’d talk, but then she frowned. “Apples.”

Sharon nodded. “Apples tonight, talk tomorrow. I haven’t decided what I’m going to let the Skull know yet.”

Raina drew nearer. Maybe she would have stroked Sharon’s face if Sharon hadn’t been working so close to the furnace so long that her skin was sweaty and grimy. “Why don’t you just tell him? He hates waiting, you know. I’m sure he’ll still give you the apples. I’ll make sure of it.”

Sharon shook her head. “I know too much. I’m not stupid. I know I have to make it last. The longer I make it last, the longer he keeps me alive.”

Raina didn’t move. “I have to present him with something. To demand something without offering him something in return is folly.”

Tony coughed to draw her attention. “My advice? Tell him how stubborn I am, and then tell him that her stubbornness impresses _me._ If she says apples, followed by information tomorrow, I’d go with it.” He paused. “She likes the sweet ones the most. Isn’t that what you were telling me last time you were awake, Sharon?”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah.” She looked up at Raina. “The sweet ones are suppose to be good for people’s health.”

Raina pursed her lips. Sharon wasn’t sure she had bought it, but after several moments, Raina’s shoulders relaxed. “I’ll see what I can do. But remember, I won’t be able to protect you or your little friends for much longer.”

They waited in silence as she left, neither of them daring to breathe until the outer door closed as well. 

“I’m not sure she bought it,” Sharon admitted.

“I don’t think she did, either.” He looked at her and started heating up the furnace again. “Time to get to work.”

They only paused when, hours later, Raina delivered a basket of apples with a warning that it had better be worth it.

Tony bit into an apple as she left and looked at Sharon. Shrugging, he pulled a piece of metal from where he’d stashed it when they’d heard the outer door clang shut and got back to work.

“I have to tell them something tomorrow, don’t I?” Sharon asked. She dug out the pieces she’d been working on, connecting them as Tony had briefly shown her earlier as best she could.

He glanced at her. “You’d better, sweetheart. The Skull isn’t forgiving, and I’d rather not go down to Tortureville with you. I like you, but Tortureville is the pits.”

Sharon sighed and started debating what she could say that would keep her alive and the resistance safe.

* * *

Sam covered Steve with a blanket. From what Jemma had told him, Steve had been up for almost thirty hours before nodding off in the middle of telling Abe about his first day as a human. He stepped away and tried not to feel odd that he, Jemma, Abe, Fury, and Natasha all stood staring at Steve as he slept.

“So no bad side effects?” Fury asked quietly.

“Not that we’ve found so far,” Jemma confirmed. “But it’s still early.”

“And you need to test it on someone who doesn’t have so much of Steve’s blood,” Sam finished. “He turned me, but I’ve still got my blood. I’m the next step, right?”

Abe and Jemma glanced at each other.

“You’re sure?” Abe asked.

Sam stared at him, nonplussed.

“Just making sure,” Abe said cheerfully. He turned away. “I’ll go get the syringe.”

Sam remembered the size of the needle the night before and glanced from Jemma to Fury and back again. “Be honest. Does he just like stabbing people with needles?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like it, Sam.” She paused on her way out the door and looked at him over his shoulder. “He _loves_ it.”

* * *

Sharon managed to stay awake until Bobbi came the next day with breakfast. Sharon, blinking sleep from her eyes, was glad for the distraction. Her hands were stiff from helping Tony all night, and her fingers ached. She had to flex them before she grabbed her fork, and even then, her hands shook.

Bobbi watched her in concern. “You eat that and go to bed,” she said firmly. She looked to Tony. “What do you need?”

Sharon hadn’t even finished her meal before she fell asleep.

* * *

“Jesus,” Sam muttered, watching sunrise for the first time in... what was it now, six, seven decades? He hadn’t bothered to measure the passage of time after a while. Why would he? One day had been much like the next.

And now here he was, watching the sky lighten.

Steve was turning his head quickly from Sam to the sun and back. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Any ill effects yet?” Jemma asked. She’d only gotten four hours of sleep, and it sounded like it. She smothered a yawn and nearly stabbed herself in the eye with her pencil.

Sam shook his head, not taking his eyes off the spot that was glowing brighter and brighter on the horizon. “Not even tired.”

“Good. Then after the sun comes up, we’ll go through the rest of the tests.”

Steve sighed. “Jemma. Give him a minute, okay? And me, too, actually. We’re not as used to it as you are.”

She looked up at them in surprise, then at the small, blinding orb of light on the horizon. “Right,” she said quickly, her voice softening. “Don’t mind me.”

As opposed to silence falling, Sam heard birdsong in the distance. His hearing wasn’t as acute as it had been, but he could still track the sounds of Darcy closing up the shop behind him. There was something weirdly familiar about the whole thing, the sounds of birds of cleaning up first thing in the morning. He hadn’t thought of home much in the past year, not _his_ home, where his mom hummed as she made dinner and his dad played records they weren’t supposed to have, but now he felt like he could turn around and see them again.

He leaned against Steve, and together, they watched the sunrise.

* * *

Sharon woke up shortly after lunch and found a tray by her elbow. More juice and a roast beef sandwich. Nearby was some sort of green soup that looked like death and smelled worse. What interested her, though, were the knife and a stake beside the tray. She stared at them wordlessly, then to where Bobbi was helping Tony piece the metal pieces together. Now that she could see all of the pieces in the dim light, she realized he’d been working on a suit of armor.

And he’d had her paint it red.

She wasn’t sure what else she could have spent her time doing, but she was sure there was something more important than painting a metal suit red.

She ate and waited until the two of them paused and leaned away from the work.

“They must really trust you,” she told Bobbi. She held up the knife and the stake.

Bobbi grinned at her. “They don’t, actually, but I’ve been at this a long time.”

Tony looked at her over his shoulder and considered. “No,” he said at last. “You’re going to be useless for this next part. Go to bed.”

Sharon met Bobbi’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to get sleep, too, you know,” she told him.

“I’m almost done.”

She sighed and cleaned off the rest of her plate, right down to the crumbs. Done, she stared at the green slop in the bowl. How hungry was she, really?

Tony must have been watching without seeming to watch again; he swept in and took the bowl away. “That’s for the suit,” he told her primly. “Do _not_ eat this.”

“I really didn’t want to anyway,” she admitted.

Bobbi stared at her, aghast. “Would you really have-” She turned to Tony. “Would she really have drank that?”

Tony hung his head and looked at Bobbi mournfully through his lashes. “You see what I’ve been putting up with.”

Bobbi glared at Sharon. “Bed. _Now._ And from now on, don’t eat anything unless I put it on the tray. I just needed a way to sneak that in!”

“How was I to know?” Sharon demanded.

Tony raised his hand. “Ladies? Pause. Sharon, bed. Bobbi, that screw is way too tight. Who taught you how to do anything around here?”

“ _You_ did,” she snapped.

Sharon walked to the cot, then paused. It wasn’t until she had the knife and stake hidden away under her mostly-flat pillow that she fell asleep.

* * *

Something hard hit her chest, and she felt herself lifted by her neck. Her eyes opened wide; Tony was shouting, but he wasn’t the one holding her, the one making her wonder if her head was about to separate from the rest of her.

The person holding her threw her against the wall. She fell heavily on the cot, gasping for breath. She blinked upwards as she tried to focus on identifying her attacker. The room was too dark, though, and her vision too blurred.

“- can’t hurt her like that!” Tony yelled. Her hands fumbled for the knife Bobbi had left.

“Watch me.”

She recognized the voice. Rumlow. Always Rumlow.

He bent to grab her again, and she instinctively kicked herself away from him, pressing herself against the wall. Her hands were shaking, but she thought she felt the knife handle. She grasped at it, catching it between her fingers just as Rumlow gripped her by the arms.

“Think you can play games with the Emperor, bitch?” He shook her, and all her thoughts turned toward not dropping the knife. Trip and May’s lessons played like background noise in her mind as Rumlow continued to yell at her and pinned her against the wall, hitting the back of her skull against it. She almost dropped the knife then, and her fingers twisted to clutch it tighter. She couldn’t drop the knife. If she dropped it, she would have to keep him from feeding from her with her bare hands, and she knew those wouldn’t be enough to stop him. The knife was her best chance.

“Now you’re going to tell me everything you know,” Rumlow barked at her. “I don’t fucking care if it’s what you had for breakfast when you were a kid, you’re going to tell me _everything._ ”

“You’re going to let her go, is what you’re going to do,” Tony demanded.

Rumlow turned his face and showed Tony his fangs. “Or you’ll what?”

Tony didn’t answer.

Sharon squirmed in Rumlow’s grasp, switching her hold on the knife.

“Right,” Rumlow continued, nodding at Tony. “Because you know how this works.” He grinned and pinned Sharon higher against the wall. “This is just a blood sack. So are you, at the end of the day. Gonna go the same way as your dad did.” When Tony didn’t move, he turned back to Sharon. He lowered her enough that she could stand on her own; her relief only lasted a second until he pushed her hair from her neck. “So are we going to do this the easy way? Or the hard way?”

She swallowed. She hadn’t felt this cold since they’d killed Betty in front of her.

He leered down at her. “You know, before I got turned, I had all sorts of ideas for the things I’d do to you if Pierce gave me to go-ahead. Now, I can’t do everything I was thinking of, but I can still do plenty of things. Can make you scream in pain either way. Start with breaking your fingers one by one, move up to your shoulders...” His finger traced a light trail up her arm. When his finger reached her shoulder, he flashed her a wolfish smile. “Then start with your legs. I’ll get hungry at some point, but you’ve got enough blood to satisfy me for one night, I’m sure.” He grinned. “By the time I’m done, you’ll beg me to let you tell me every-”

There was a blast of light, and Rumlow fell forward.

Sharon gasped at Tony over Rumlow’s shoulder. He had an arm of his suit on, only now the light on the palm of the hand was glowing brightly.

Rumlow groaned and turned to face Tony. “You fucking-” He grunted again and turned toward Sharon in disbelief.

She held the knife between them and tried not to look at the dark smear on the blade. 

His features twisted with anger, and he took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out for her neck.

She ducked under his arm, the motion automatic after all her training with May, and slid the knife between his ribs as Trip had taught her. She was vaguely aware of another bright flash of light on Rumlow’s other side. 

She stared at Tony as Rumlow’s body slipped to the floor.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

She roused herself. Her hands shook, but she wasn’t as cold as she had been. “You didn’t have to do that! I was getting ready to stab him!”

“Yeah, in the back. Classy move, by the way.”

She glared at him. “It _worked._ ”

Rumlow groaned on the floor; she rolled him over with a foot and bent to stab his throat. His blood was black and sluggish. She didn’t know why that made her feel better.

Tony whistled. “That’s cold,” he commended her. “Now help me get the rest of the suit on. It’s only a matter of time before the guards check on him.”

Sharon looked doubtfully at Rumlow. “We shouldn’t have killed him, right?”

He gaped at her as he pulled out pieces of the suit from where he’d stashed them around the room. “Did you _want_ him to torture you?”

“No! I just- The resistance is supposed to have a plan, right? And it probably wasn’t us killing a vampire!”

Tony rolled his eyes and beckoned her over. “I need you to tighten them in place,” he instructed. “And I’ve seen my share of resistance plans. I can safely say that none of them go according to plan.”

She hurried to tighten bolts, starting at his feet and circling him time and time again as she worked her way upward. “Rumlow mentioned your dad?”

Tony grimaced. “Yeah. The Skull caught my dad when I was a teenager. I was an asshole then.” He caught her glance and shrugged. “Fine. A _bigger_ asshole. We didn’t part on good terms. Figured I’d save the old man, try and make it up to him. It didn’t work. Dad was already dead, and me and a bunch of others got captured.” He shrugged. “Way things work out sometimes, I guess. They start out bad and then get worse.”

He grabbed the helmet last and looked at it for a moment. He turned a little to watch her, and the suit moved with him. “I haven’t tested any of this out yet, so things are going to get interesting fast if I miscalculated something. Which I never do. But if I did.” He pulled the helmet over his head and dropped the face plate. “Can you hear me?”

His voice was distorted, but his voice came through clearly enough that she could understand him.

She nodded. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. So far, so good.” She didn’t see him do anything, but parts of the suit started to light up. “This could either be very cool or very embarrassing,” Tony mused. He looked at her again, and she stared into the emotionless mask covering his face. “I’m going to need your help with something else.”

She frowned at him. “You make it sound like I’m not going to like it.”

“I’ll protect you as much as I can, but no. You’re probably not going to like it.”

Sharon pursed her lips. What passed for blood dripped from Rumlow’s neck to the floor. After a moment, she sighed. It wasn’t as if she could turn back now.

“I’ll probably like it more than Bobbi’s going to like finding out about all this."


	16. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to save his friends, Sharon tries to save _her_ friends, Steve and Sam try to save Sharon, and the resistance tries to save themselves.

Tony was right. She _didn’t_ like it. While he stood beside the door, waiting for the vampire guards to come in, she had to wait beside a large bowl-like tray with heavy cloth sacks on top. She had refused to hold it while they waited, and Tony hadn’t insisted. Likely because he knew how much it weighed; if Sharon didn’t miss her guess, the tray weighed more than she did.

The only upside was that Rumlow wasn’t moving. She couldn’t stop checking repeatedly. Tony hadn’t said anything as she’d stabbed Rumlow on the other side of the neck, then later in the thigh. The last wound had hardly bled at all, but she wouldn’t feel truly safe until they had burned the body.

She wished Bobbi would come back with food. Tony hadn’t mentioned what the plan was in regards to Bobbi. Of course, neither had Bobbi.

Not knowing what was going on was getting incredibly irritating.

* * *

Sam woke shortly after midnight, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and seemingly surprised that he had slept through so much of the night.

“It will take time to acclimate to a new schedule,” Jemma consoled him as she did her tests again. “Look on the bright side, though. The sun can no longer harm you or dictate when you sleep.”

Steve paid attention with half an ear as he talked with Abe, Fury, and Natasha. He only looked over at Sam once; he didn’t need all the tests and measurements Jemma did to make sure Sam was all right. One moment of locking eyes with Sam, and he knew.

“But still not ready for wide distribution,” Fury muttered.

Abe held out in hands in a placating gesture. “There is not such a hurry as to rush the process. Steve and Sam already had a... what you might call an _improved_ strand of the virus. It was closer to the cure. The vampires that have been turned by the Skull will not be so fortunate. They have a mutated strain. It may not respond the same way. It could hard them if the cure does not override the mutation as it ought.”

“So we need someone we can test it on.” Fury leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Someone who isn’t important to our cause in case something goes wrong.”

“What are the odds the tests will go wrong?” Natasha asked.

Abe looked to his side, then realized Jemma wasn’t there and sought her out with his eyes. He watched her for a moment. Steve knew him well enough by now to know he wasn’t trying to remember calculations he had worked out; he was watching Sam’s check-up and considering how that affected the data. Steve wondered if he had been eavesdropping just as Steve had. 

“Not high,” Abe said after several seconds. “Not even moderate. But there is still a chance.”

Jemma appeared at Abe’s elbow. “Excellent news. All signs point to Sam being human, stable, and healthy. Steve hasn’t experienced any ill effects yet, either, and it doesn’t seem either of them will, if they continue as they have.”

Sam stood at Steve’s side and gave him a smug smile. It wasn’t until he’d turned his head away that his hand rested on the back of Steve’s chair, the touch of his finger light against Steve’s shirt but unmistakably there.

Abe sighed and looked to Fury. “Then we need to determine whom to ask to volunteer. We are not overrun by vampires here.”

“And the ones we have are vital,” Fury finished. Steve had noticed that when it came to understanding a situation, Fury tended to be miles ahead of everyone else in the room.

Natasha snorted. “So what, we kidnap another vampire and hope no one notices them missing?”

Fury eyed her. “If one of the Skull’s vamps die, I’m not going to lose any sleep.”

“Until other Skull vamps notice their vamp friend has gone missing,” Natasha countered. “We’d have to take one of the residents. And I don’t think Doc would do that.”

Everyone looked to Abe, but his expression of distaste was answer enough.

Fury sighed. “If it makes you feel better, Abe, I’ll give the asshole the serum myself.”

“So we’ll have to use someone else. And though we don’t have to rush, sitting around and debating who it’s going to be is a waste of time.” Natasha walked over to the table where Abe had already prepared three more doses of the synthesized serum. She ran her finger along one before picking it up and studying the needle. She took a breath. “Nick. You know what Darcy and Daisy say, don’t you?” She flashed him a grin, all fang. “Live a little.”

She plunged the needle into her chest; Abe and Fury reached her in time to catch her before she fell.

“дерьмо,” she gasped.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He didn’t speak Russian, but Natasha’s tone was unmistakable. “Stings like a bitch.”

* * *

Sharon almost admired Tony. It wasn’t for the suit of armor he’d built. It wasn’t for being aware of everything around him. It was for waiting so patiently, still as a statue. She’d given up and moved to a stool. If it weren’t for Rumlow’s body on the floor, she might have drifted off to sleep. As it was, every time her eyes started to drift shut, she remembered the feel of his hands on her skin and jerked awake.

But Tony didn’t move. The armor never so much as shifted.

If she was wrong about him and he’d actually fallen asleep in there, she was going to punch him.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before there was finally a sound in the outer corridor. And then more noise at the door in front of Tony. He lifted an arm; her grip tightened on her knife. Not that it would do much good against all of the vampires out there, but it was still better than nothing. She slid off the stool as quietly as she could.

The door opened. Tony’s suit made a whirring sound. Unlike last time, the light from Tony’s palm was brighter. Sharon wasn’t sure what he hit the guard with, but it knocked the man off his feet and back into the atrium.

“Door’s open,” Tony’s mechanical voice said. His footsteps clanged against the stone floor as he strode forward. She spun to get the curved tray he’d put the sacks on, stumbling under the weight as she heard him blast the other guard away.

She secured her grip and ran after him, staying close behind him and keeping an eye out for more guards behind them. The guards didn’t move, and their skin was blackened. She swallowed and kicked the body in with the hell of her foot. She pushed the door with her shoulder until it closed again; the longer it took people to discover them missing, the better.

“What _is_ that stuff?” she whispered.

“Concentrated light source. Imitates sunlight. I’ve been working on it for years. Adjusted the settings after Rumlow didn’t go down right away. Should be perfect now.” He stopped as the hall forked and looked both ways, the mechanical parts in his neck whirring quietly. “This way.”

She followed, then slowed as she heard noises coming from the other direction. She drifted to the wall and hid in the shadows, letting him move farther down the hall so she could hear better. With added distance between them, Tony’s footsteps were quiet enough that she could hear the multiple vampires on patrol come toward them. The patrol turned down the hallway toward her and Tony’s cell, and she exhaled in relief. No one was coming after them yet; they still had a little time. She hurried to fall into step behind Tony.

She heard shouts from behind and tried to hurry Tony along. “They’re going to search down this way any minute,” she warned.

“I can’t fly,” he snapped. “Yet. I was working on it. But I couldn’t get all of the parts.” He lifted his legs higher. His strides didn’t lengthen at all, but he _did_ manage to clomp down the hallway faster. “Think I’m getting the hang of this.”

Sharon’s head spun as she watched where they were going and kept an eye on the hallway behind them. It didn’t take long for her to spot five vampires coming for them. “Tony!”

He turned, already lifting his hands. “Down.”

She ducked and closed her eyes as the whirring began. Moment after, she continued to blink the spots out of her eyes.

“Now we’re _really_ up the creek without a paddle,” he said cheerfully. “Stay close.”

She rolled her eyes and lugged the tray back against her hip. Even with a knife, she couldn’t take out five vampires at once. She didn’t need to be told to keep up.

* * *

Natasha’s pleased expression faded as soon as she realized everyone was staring at her. She frowned at them over the sandwich. “Stop,” she instructed.

“It’s just so... weird,” Daisy breathed. With an hour left until dawn, Darcy was still minding the shop and Abe had sent Jemma to bed after finding her standing against a wall asleep. Daisy had Jemma’s notebook and was taking notes almost as diligently as Jemma had, though from what Steve could see, Daisy’s notes had a lot more question marks and frownie faces.

At Natasha’s glare, Daisy leaned forward, her nose inches from the page. “Ooookaaaaaaay. Um. After eating, do you still thirst for blood?”

“No.” Natasha tilted her head. Her features turned faintly menacing. “But keep asking questions. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

Fury shifted in the doorway. “Natasha.”

Natasha shrugged and grinned at Daisy.

Daisy made a face at her.

Hearing a commotion in the hallway, Steve lifted his head. A second later, so did Fury, with Sam following close behind.

Darcy fell into the room. “Izzy is here. She just came from the Capitol. Tony and Sharon killed some vamps in some sort of escape attempt. She woke up Bobbi to help them and then came here. She wants to know if we’re going to fight or what.”

A dark-haired woman that Steve hadn’t seen before slipped past Darcy. “Or I could tell them myself,” she said calmly. She nodded to Fury. “Nick. If we hurry, we’ll get there a couple minutes before dawn.”

Nick frowned. His face betrayed none of his thoughts, but Steve knew he was considering all of his options. Nick straightened. “Abe. How much serum do we have?”

“I have three vials ready. When Jemma wakes, we can make more, but it will take longer than an hour.”

“If we go,” Natasha said, “the guards in town will note that we’re driving our truck without approval. Suspicious activity gets checked out. Even if we get through the checkpoints with no trouble, they’ll come to the shop to find out what’s going on. We won’t be able to take everyone with us.”

Fury nodded. “And the vamps are about to go night-night. You sure you don’t feel any side effects?”

Natasha shrugged. “Feel as good now as the day before I died.”

“Then talk to Barton. See if he’ll take the cure. If so, take him with you. Abe, dose me up.” Fury looked to Daisy. “Get May. While I’m unconscious, I need her to take charge here. We’ll take out what forces we can here and then move to the Capitol.”

Daisy, eyes wide, set the notebook down and headed to the door. After a moment, she turned back and grabbed the notebook. “I’ll put it in the lab,” she said quickly. “So Jemma can find it when she wakes up.” With that, she ran from the room.

“I’d better go get Clint.” Natasha wiped her mouth with a sleeve and picked up a syringe. She paused in the doorway. “He’s probably going to choose to take the cure right away. Steve, Sam. You can help me carry him.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice. Sharon was surrounded by vampires, possibly humans, too, at this point, with only one or two people to help her. The sooner they got moving, the better.

* * *

Sharon was going to kill Tony. She was going to kill him and then stomp on his face. Well, no. That wouldn’t work. She was going to find a pair of shoes to protect her feet from his oh-so-hard head, and _then_ she was going to stomp on his face.

“You made me carry around _more suits?_ ” she demanded as Tony started putting the pieces around the man and woman she’d seen on the dais at the ball. She had no idea how long ago that had been anymore. “I’ve been walking around ducking and dragging those bags, and all along-”

“They weren’t made for you.” Tony’s voice was firm. His voice quieted as he spoke to the others. “I know you’re weak. I designed the suits to help. Small motions will work. I made the suits to be especially sensitive, so you shouldn’t have to work much. But if you have a problem, tell me. I’ve still got juice in this thing. And no, Rhodey. That wasn’t a euphemism.”

At least he wasn’t insisting she help. She was exhausted, and her arms trembled whenever she tried to pick up the tray. She still couldn’t understand why someone would make it curved like that. Had vampires made it as some sort of weird decorative choice? She sat on the floor and rested against the wall. She knew they couldn’t stay here for long. Tony had already blasted through a horde of vampires just to get here, and there had been enough people guarding the room that Sharon had even needed to use her knife.

Which, realistically, was another reason she was shaking. Vampires bled differently. It didn’t bother her. But not everyone she’d stabbed had been a vampire.

She didn’t know how Peggy could have done this. Any of it. Hearing about the violence second-hand, even training, was completely different from the reality. Sharon hadn’t thought it would be this frightening. The fighting wasn’t even the worst part; it was the quiet between the fighting, never knowing what was around the next corner or when the next enemy would appear.

“I would have made you a suit, too,” Tony said after a moment, “but we ran out of time. Use the shield, though.”

“Shield?” She looked at the tray. Her muscles ached as she pushed it onto its side. She was familiar with the word, but she’d never actually seen a physical shield. May and Trip had both instructed her to shield herself with her arm if she had to.

“Yeah. I think that’s what it is. Dad left it behind. I didn’t want to leave it for the Skull in case we got out of here.”

Now that the cloth sacks were gone, she could see a couple straps on the inside. She had thought they were for holding things in place, but now that she knew it was some sort of shield... Cautiously, she put her arm against the bindings, then slide her arm inside. She was too tired to lift up the shield, but it seemed to work.

If she ever got out of here, she’d have to show this to May and Trip. They’d be able to do more with it than she could.

Tony spun, his palms already glowing as someone appeared in the doorway.

Bobbi held her hands up. “Easy, easy. Here to help.”

Tony lowered his hands. “About time you joined the party.”

She knelt beside Sharon. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

Sharon shrugged. “Don’t feel great. Rumlow stopped by earlier.” Bobbi frowned, and Sharon wasn’t sure if it was because she understood or if she thought Sharon should have suffered through it. “Tony and I both overreacted, I guess.”

Bobbi pressed a hand to Sharon’s face, then took her pulse. “Can’t say I blame you. Did he take any blood?”

She shook her head. “He wanted information. I don’t think he was going to feed from me right away. Was talking about breaking my bones first.”

“No regrets about killing the bastard,” Tony said as he joined them. Behind him stood two more suits of armor. The smaller one had been painted red like his; the other was still iron gray. “Bobbi. Meet Pepper and Rhodey.”

The gray suit raised a hand. “Hi.”

A moment later, the red suit did the same.

“Here’s the deal,” Tony said. “I’m at twenty-five percent, but Pep and Rhodey are fully charged. We’ve mostly got sunlight, but we’ve got heavier firepower, too.”

Bobbi pressed her lips together. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re also going to _draw_ firepower. Massively.”

“Tony doesn’t do subtle,” the woman, Pepper said. Sharon wasn’t sure she was making out the voice correctly; it sounded almost fond.

“We’ll attract their firepower.” Tony’s tone was decisive. “You take care of Sharon. Get her out of here. We’ll clear you a path.”

He strode past, Rhodey following soon after. Pepper lagged behind long enough to nod solemnly at Bobbi and Sharon before she walked after Tony and Rhodey. Within seconds, Sharon heard the whir of their weapons charging.

Bobbi helped her to her feet. “I passed through the kitchen while I was looking for you two. Grabbed you these.” She handed Sharon some protein bars from a pouch on her belt. Seeing Sharon was having trouble opening one of them, she ripped it open.

Sharon ate hungrily. “We screwed up the resistance plan, didn’t we.”

Bobbi shrugged. “Plans change. We need to figure out a way to get you out of here. Security’s tight right now. The vamps will drop in about half an hour. We’ll wait until then.”

Sharon swallowed. She’d already killed more humans than she’d thought she ever would. The thought of blood made her stomach rebel. If she never saw any red liquid ever again, it would be too soon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t leave the Capitol yet.”

“What?”

She took a deeper breath. “He’s still keeping my friends here somewhere. The people from my camp. I’ve got to find them.”

Bobbi set a gentle hand on her arm. “They had too many vampires to feed,” she said softly. “They all got finished off last night.”

Sharon stumbled back and leaned against the wall. “All of them?” she whispered. How could they have killed _all_ of them? There’d been hundreds of people at the camp.

Bobbi nodded.

She felt tears sting her eyes; her chest ached. Another flash of light drew her eye to the doorway, and the ache turned to a burn. Steve and Sam were safe outside somewhere. The resistance was out there still. She and Tony might have cost the resistance its chance to do whatever Fury had intended to do, but Sharon would be damned if she didn’t do her part. The Skull had taken everything from her, _everything._ Her parents, her aunt, the people who had raised her, the people she had grown up with. He’d even taken her away from Steve and Sam. If she ever escaped, she’d have to live in hiding, underground somewhere. Maybe with Steve and Sam, maybe with the resistance. Maybe even with both. But she couldn’t do it. She’d lived with fear too long to want to live that way for the rest of her life.

She could see blood again if the blood belonged to the Skull.

She lifted her chin. “We need to stay. _I_ need to stay.” Bobbi frowned, and Sharon’s mind spun as she tried to think of an argument that would make Bobbi agree. No one Sharon had left would be safe so long as the Skull was alive; they had to kill him. “We might not get a chance like this again, right? The Skull can leave and stay away until we’re all dead and he’s got new humans under his thumb. But right now, he doesn’t have time to run away. They’ll have him holed up somewhere here. Nothing but human guards soon, right? We find where he is, we get Tony and the others to help us, we kill the Skull, and we leave.”

Bobbi raised an eyebrow, sticks twirling slowly in either hand. “You know if we do that, we may not live long enough to leave.”

“We don’t do this, everyone we know is going to die.” The shield was heavy, but she stubbornly lifted it up and shoved her arm through. “It’s worth it, right? If they’re safe?”

Bobbi grinned. “Then let’s get the son of a bitch.”

* * *

Natasha shoved a cup into Clint’s hands. “Drink,” she said sternly. “I know you’re hungry, but it’s all we can give you until we’re done here.”

“I’m mortal, hungry, and on a suicide mission. But sure. Give me whatever this is.” He sniffed at the drink. For a split second, it seemed he might make another comment about its poor quality, but he drank it all before he could. “Don’t guess you have more.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at Steve, who shrugged in the passenger seat. Sam sat on the floor behind his seat, Clint tucked tightly behind Natasha’s. So far, they had managed to travel without anyone stopping them, though Steve had seen several guards run back toward the market after they’d left. “They’ll be fine,” Natasha said, voice firm. He could only hope she was right.

Her features hardened when she saw the Capitol up ahead. Wooden roadblocks kept traffic away from the building. Steve guessed they were always there, as they were too flimsy to stop someone determined to go past them.

And Natasha was certainly determined to go past them. Without hesitation, she pressed the gas. She aimed the truck up the Capitol steps.

“Uh, Nat?” Clint said from the back. “When I said I’m mortal now? I meant that we’re _all_ mortal.”

“I forgot my key inside,” she joked. “So I’m going to drive inside and get a spare.”

Steve gaped at her. How had he not noticed before now that she was crazy?

“Can you even get enough speed for this?” Sam demanded.

“I’m going to find out in about thirty steps.” The truck hit the first of them, and everyone inside jumped in their seats, tossed around like dolls as Natasha continued to climb. The truck finally leveled, and Steve had long enough to breathe a relieved sigh before he realized Natasha was headed straight through the Capitol doors. She shoved his head down as bullets sprayed their car. He could have sworn he heard her chuckle as she drove over some of the shooters. “Clint!” She opened the truck door and hopped out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered, following her. The sound of fighting trailed after them.

Steve and Sam gaped at each other in the temporary silence.

“I swear that boy had a bow and arrow,” Sam muttered.

“You have weird friends,” Steve agreed. He shoved his way out of the car door, heading in the opposite direction as Natasha and Clint. They had to find Sharon.

Sam was right behind him. “Oh, so they’re my friends now?”

They slipped into silence as the fighting moved far enough to cover up their own noise. The small weapons cache at the resistance hadn’t yielded them much, but they each had a knife and a gun. The two had made it clear to Natasha that their priority was Sharon. She had pursed her lips at that, but she hadn’t argued.

Steve and Sam worked their way through the halls. Humans who had to be guarded by vampires were unlikely to be aboveground, so they worked their way downstairs. Steve had never been underground at the Capitol before, and his ears strained as he inhaled deeply, trying to find some trace of Sharon. He could no longer hear her, no longer track her scent. It was the first time he’d realized there were downsides to being a human instead of a vampire, and he swallowed at the thought of never hearing her heartbeat again.

But the important thing was to make sure she was alive and keep her that way.

The underground portion of the Capitol was even more of a labyrinth than Natasha’s. Some of the doors led to narrow stairways, some to offices or closets. They found two hallways which hadn’t been completed yet and were left as dead ends. One office had two vampires who had fallen asleep at their desks. Sam looked from them to Steve and held up his knife.

After considering, Steve shook his head. The vampires wouldn’t be a threat until nightfall, and the longer they went undetected, the higher their chances of finding Sharon.

They crept down to another floor. Human guards found them moving through a hallway. Steve wasn’t sure if it was the serum or the fact that he and Sam had spent so much time as vampires, but despite his and Sam’s limited fighting experience in the past several decades, they still seemed faster than the guards, stronger even. Steve forced himself to use the knife instead of the gun, tried not to think of how the only person he’d ever killed before was Sam, that he was killing these people permanently.

Two more stairways, one of them particularly winding and narrow, and they found human guards who had already been killed. Burnt vampire remains weren’t far away. Another floor down brought still more bodies. He and Sam instinctively moved faster. So far, none of the bodies were Sharon’s, but at this point she had been here for hours, fighting her way through. There was no way to telling what had happened to her.

There was a muffled explosion somewhere nearby, the force shaking the walls. Steve and Sam looked at each other. Sam reached out and squeezed Steve’s hand. They continued their search. The halls were too twisted and confusing to find the source of the explosion, but they found more and more rooms with bodies or the burnt remains of vampires.

Steve started to panic as they continued on. They’d searched for over an hour without any sign of Sharon, Natasha, or Clint. They had no way to stay in touch with each other, no way to make sure everyone was all right. He needed to know they were all right.

He heard muffled sounds coming from a hallway and glanced at Sam. Together, they hurried in that direction. Someone was fighting; they heard shouts and curses, most of them male.

They turned the corner, and Steve stopped dead in his tracks; Sam bumped into him from behind. It _was_ Sharon, but not like he’d ever seen her before. Blood sat atop the grime and dirt on her skin and thin dress. Her hair was a tangle of knots. Her feet were bare and filthy. She held a knife in one hand and had a shield in the other, and blocked a guard’s blows while she stabbed at him underneath the shield.

He had never been happier to see her.

And then he noticed the blood her cheek, on her left ear, the cuts and bruises on her arms, the trails of sweat on her face, the way her arms trembled and how she lifted the shield a little too slowly and swung the knife a little too wide. 

He strode forward, but Sam got to the guard before he did, slicing through the man’s jugular before moving on to the rest of the guards. Steve was only vaguely aware of the other woman there, looking nearly as beaten and tired as Sharon, but most of his attention was on how Sharon’s arms fell limply as the guard she’d fought fell to the ground. She gasped for breath, her eyes on Sam as if trying to figure out if he was real or not.

Steve stopped in front of her, his fingers hovering over the cut on her cheek as he gauged how deep it was.

She stared up at him. “Steve?”

He nodded.

She frowned at him and swayed slightly from side to side. “How-”

Steve glanced at Sam; all of the guards were down, and Sam’s knife was wet with blood. The other woman was watching them both warily.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Steve murmured. He tried to pry her knife from her hand, but her fingers wrapped tighter around it as if by instinct. He had better luck taking the shield and putting it on his own arm. He tested it briefly. Yes, he could cover two people with this. He took her free hand and looked to the woman.

She looked from him to Sharon and back again. “She wanted to make sure the Skull was dead before we left. You two are Steve and Sam, I take it?”

He nodded. Sharon trembled against him, panting for breath.

“She mentioned you.”

“Why’re you so warm?” Sharon murmured. There was a hint of a slur to it, and he frowned. She was exhausted. He wrapped an arm around her protectively.

He glared at the woman, but she didn’t seem offended. She held up her hands in surrender and nodded down the hall. “The exit’s that way.”

Sharon stiffened. “We have to kill the Skull,” she insisted.

Sam sighed. “She didn’t get that stubbornness from me, man.”

Steve looked at Sam over her head and shrugged. “We’ve brought some people to help,” he told Sharon. “We’ll get him.” He looked over her head at the woman and nodded to her. “Let’s go."


	17. Mortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some decisions are made naturally; some are more difficult.

Sharon spent most of the first day and a half asleep, but someone was always with her when she woke up. Most of it was a blur, but she later remembered Steve and Sam sitting with her multiple times; once she woke to find they had fallen asleep while leaning against each other. Bobbi and Daisy, too, though Daisy seemed different in a way she couldn’t pinpoint. Whenever she tried to eat, her muscles were sore enough that her hand shook as she held her fork. When she finally felt well enough to get out of bed, Sam was with her again. He helped her sit up, all the while looking like he’d sucked on a lemon.

“I really think you should rest longer. Bobbi and Tony told us what happened.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of lying around. I want to help track down the Skull, damn it.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. After several moments, though, he sighed. “I’ll get somebody to help you get ready.”

She forced herself out of bed. Someone had left a clean change of clothes at the foot of her bed, and she vaguely remembered that someone - Bobbi? - had helped her out of the dirty clothes from before. She supposed they’d needed to. The dress had been ruined almost as soon as she and Bobbi had been attacked. Even if it hadn’t been torn and cut in so many places, the soot and blood alone would have meant it could never be used again, and she’d probably reeked too badly to be allowed around vampires. She sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.

Daisy came in minutes later and smiled, but she didn’t meet Sharon’s eye when she did so. “Sam said you need help with a bath and getting dressed.”

Sharon frowned at her, then down at herself. Sure enough, someone had cleaned her arms, but they had only cleaned so much. She cleared her throat and looked up to Daisy. “This is... the next awkward stage in our friendship, right?”

She grinned weakly and shrugged. “Everybody else is busy doing other stuff, so yeah, I guess so.”

Sharon forced herself to her feet. Her muscles ached, but she’d dealt with worse. She steadied herself against the bed and grabbed the clothes with shaky fingers. “Show me to the bathroom? I think I can handle it from there.”

Daisy nodded and led her into an unfamiliar hallway. It was carpeted, with a long line of doors on either side and fake plants in the corners. “Office building near the Capitol,” Daisy said in explanation. “Most of the market was ruined in the attack. Right now, the plan is to raze the Capitol and build over it. They just have to find out if the Skull is really inside or not.” She stopped beside a door at the end of the hall. “There are apartments with individual bathrooms a couple floors down, but we’ve kind of got a human influx right now, so we’re stuck with the communal stuff for now.” She pulled open the door and glanced behind them before going through.

Nodding, Sharon stepped inside. It was a large, white room with cubby holes on one side and toilet stalls on the other. Through a door on the far side, there was another room with multiple showerheads on each wall. Beside the entry was a shelf with towels. Sharon glanced around before putting her clothes beside the towels. It was larger and cleaner than the bathing area back at camp, but it still had a familiar quality to her. She tried not to think of her last time in a room like this, when Maria had yelled at them all for messing around rather than getting clean, but it was hard not to hear the echo of Maria’s voice in the resounding silence. Once she was in the room and out of Daisy’s sight, she pulled off her dirty clothes and turned on the water.

“I’m going to stay out here,” Daisy called. “In case you fall or faint or something. Not because I want to make things weird.”

Sharon grinned. “You saying that makes it weird.” The water heated up quickly, and she moaned as she stepped under the hot spray. Despite knowing Daisy was waiting for her, she took her time, washing her hair multiple times. She kept thinking there was still blood on her skin somewhere, too, and it wasn’t until her skin was pink and raw that she gave up on trying to scrub it harder. She dried herself with the towel as well as she could and tugged her new dress over her head. It was too big on her, but it was clean and smelled like Natasha’s shop.

Daisy sat on a bench, hugging her knees and staring into the distance. She jumped when Sharon moved into her vision. Breathless, she forced a laugh. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Sharon frowned. She’d never known Daisy to get scared. After a moment, she sat beside her. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m fine!” Sharon stared at her, and Daisy’s smile faded. “It wasn’t what I thought it’d be like.”

Sharon nodded. “I was thinking that, too. At the Capitol.”

Daisy snorted. “I heard you fought vampires. I only had to worry about fighting humans.”

She shrugged. “The first vamp I killed was pretty much already dead,” she admitted. “I kept stabbing him because I was afraid he’d get up again.” She swallowed thickly. “I can’t look at it anymore.” She waved a hand at her arm. “Blood,” she forced out. “I can’t- the humans were the worst part. Bobbi had to fight most of them on her own.”

Daisy hugged herself. “May had to save me a lot. Trip did, too. I thought- After Coulson died saving me, and the vamps killed my parents, I wanted to fight so _much_. And when I finally got to fight...” She shook her head.

May sighed in the doorway. Alarmed, Sharon and Daisy turned to face her. “You were fine until Jemma got hurt,” May said, her voice firm. “And you did better in a real firefight than most do their first time. No matter what you think about how well you did, your parents and Coulson would have been proud.” She looked at Sharon. “Sam said you were awake. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you,” Sharon said. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding, that she ought to leave Daisy and May alone, but May only nodded, looked at Daisy, then left.

“She didn’t want me to fight,” Daisy said quietly, not looking at Sharon. “I insisted.”

“Is Jemma okay?”

For the first time since she’d woken up, Daisy’s smile was genuine. “Yeah. And we need to brush your hair before anyone else sees you. You look like a mess.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. About to crack a joke in rebuttal, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Daisy hadn’t been joking. “Shit!”

Daisy laughed and started rooting around for a hairbrush.

* * *

Steve’s life was certainly more interesting now than when he’d been a vampire. Three days after they attacked the Capitol, May found Pierce trapped beneath the rubble. The day after that, she found the Skull. Sam and Natasha had helped Abe and Jemma to produce more serum, and all of the vampires guarding the Skull got a dose before they were put in the prisons where they had formerly kept the Skull’s prisoners.

Aside from the necessary cleanup, most of the resistance’s time focused on what they should do from here on out. Should they execute people who were loyal to the Skull, give them a second chance, imprison them indefinitely? What about the Skull’s allies? Surely they would retaliate. The resistance had managed to secure one small part of the country, and the Skull had taken over the world. How were they supposed to ensure a permanent victory and help humans in other areas? Would it be better to keep to themselves? Could they afford to?

The radios that still functioned played the same patriotic, German-themed music. Outside of New York, nothing had changed.

“It is disconcerting,” Abe confessed to him after the first day of debates. “Listening to them, I realize they never expected the cure to work.”

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and Abe walked away before Steve could think of something. The next day, though, he tracked Abe down and handed him a cup of coffee. “You said we could talk after things settled down,” he reminded him. “Except for all the meetings about what to do next, I think things are settling down enough that we can get to know each other a little better.”

Abe’s eyes lit up, and it took him a couple attempts to speak before choking out, “Yes. Yes, I would like that. I suppose it is too much to ask to know your entire history and hobbies and the like.”

Steve grinned. “Sounds like a place to start, though.”

* * *

“So,” Pierce said, sounding for all the world as if they were still in the Capitol, “did you come to gloat, Rogers?”

Steve looked at Pierce’s sullied suit, the dirt under Pierce’s nails, the cuffs that kept him secured to the chair. For a man who had kept so many in captivity, he didn’t take to captivity well himself. “No,” he said. He took the seat across from Pierce and wondered, not for the first time, if Abe was wasting the serum on people like these. But if he and Sam had been able to change, maybe Abe was right to hope. “I wanted to know when you first suspected us.”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. If it weren’t for the wrinkles in his suit and his disarrayed hair, he would have seemed as elegant as ever. After a moment, he leaned back. “When we first suspected you,” he repeated.

He didn’t like how amused Pierce sounded. He nodded.

Pierce grinned. “Oh, we noticed how often you visited Peggy Carter, if that’s what you’re asking. But we didn’t care. Until.” He lifted a finger and set his elbows on the table. “You tucked her in.”

Steve stared at him. Had he- And then he remembered the last night he’d seen Peggy, how carefully he had tucked her in because he knew she might be cold, and because he knew it would likely be the last time he ever saw her.

“Visiting her so often was one thing, but some vampires take a liking to certain humans. It was nothing so unusual that we felt we should get involved. But then you adopted a human the same night.” Pierce smiled thinly. “It’s a weird thing about the humans. They’re... crafty. Like rats. And Carter was the craftiest one of them all. She managed to hide people from us- we still aren’t sure how many got away and how she pulled it off.”

Steve bit his lip to keep from smiling. That was Peggy. Not a chance in hell of success, and she still made it happen.

“But the fact that you adopted someone after speaking to her... _That_ was curious. We’d thought we’d already separated her from everyone who mattered to her or killed them in front of her, but if we’d truly done that, who was this girl you adopted? How did you hear about her?”

Steve felt the blood drain from his face.

Pierce leaned in closer, still grinning. “Truthfully? We still don’t know how that human trollop was to Carter. In the end, we didn’t care. We knew we had enough to execute you ages ago. Or did you think paintings featuring sunlight were a good idea? And whether or not you were truly helping the resistance - which we know now you were - we could have made the case for that as soon as you tucked in their de facto leader and symbol.” He shrugged and sank back into his seat.

Steve’s breathing had changed since he’d been turned back into a human; he needed more oxygen now. Even by human standards, though, his breath was coming fast enough to betray him. He gripped the table. “Why didn’t you do something?” he seethed. “Why didn’t you do something when you knew? Why- why string us along for so long?”

Pierce shrugged. “Eternity gets boring. After a while, you learn to pace your amusements.” His grin returned. “After all, killing you would have ended everything far too quickly. Drawing it out meant we could play with you more.”

Closing his eyes, Steve took a deep breath. “So you _did_ force Sam out of his job.”

Pierce shrugged. “We wanted to see what you’d do. Besides, people like him aren’t fit to be seen by people like us.”

Steve glanced toward the door and weighed whether or not he could murder Pierce before someone stopped him. He swallowed thickly. “And Sharon. Would you really have given her to Rumlow?”

Holding up a finger again, Pierce said, “That was Herr Schmidt. He always had a soft spot for that barbarian.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to stand slowly, to keep his movements measured. “You’re human now, Pierce. And I’m going to enjoy watching you die, slowly, of old age, all the while knowing how powerless you are.”

He didn’t look back as he left the room.

* * *

Sam wasn’t upset when news spread that the Skull wasn’t responding well to the serum. If anything, the serum was driving the Skull even more insane, and Sam supposed that would put a stop to the debate about whether or not to put him in prison for a while. As far as Sam was concerned, the Skull could either rot in a cell or be executed.

Abe was the one the news hit hardest, and Sam reminded himself not to complain that Steve was spending so much time with Abe. Whether it was comforting Abe or trying to get to know him better, Sam didn’t know. He knew he had no right to be jealous, though.

It was still a relief when Steve crawled into their bed at the end of each day. Not that it was _their_ bed, but it was the closest thing they’d had to a home ever since their apartment had been destroyed.

One day, while Steve met with the rest of the resistance leaders, Sam took Sharon back to the apartment. After days out of bed, with regular food and rest and some exercise thrown in for good measure, she was almost as strong as she had been before Rumlow had scarred her neck. He stayed behind her as they climbed the staircase nonetheless, but she neither stumbled or seemed out of breath when they got to the top.

Her eyes widened when she saw the trashed apartment. Sam noticed that their microwave was missing and wondered who he could report the theft to. The only authority around was the resistance, and they were busy with other things. He supposed he’d have to write the microwave off.

Sharon stood in the middle of the room and turned around slowly in disbelief. 

“Prime real estate now,” Sam pointed out. He mentally kicked himself. He should have warned Sharon what she would see here.

She swallowed. “They destroyed it.”

He shrugged. “They tried. I figured that the new place is okay, but this is our home, you know? Has been for decades. I was thinking we could clean it up while Steve’s busy and we have nothing to do.” He paused. “I don’t have superspeed anymore.”

After a moment, she started to smile. “I’ll ask Daisy and Darcy if they want to help. They’ve never been in an apartment with roof access before.”

Whatever smugness she might have felt at the thought of giving her friends a tour disappeared when she saw the bathroom. “WHAT THE HELL, SAM?”

He groaned. “Yeah. Uh. Fixing the place up might take a while.”

* * *

Sharon only helped clean up the apartment one day before Daisy tracked her down in the locker room, where Sharon was getting dressed after a shower.

Daisy crossed her arms. “Where’ve you been?”

Sharon glanced at her. “Cleaning up our old apartment. The Skull had it trashed, and Sam wants to move in once we’re done here. I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Do you want to come over some time? We can sit on the roof and do stuff.” She didn’t actually know yet what they could do other than just sit around on the roof and talk, but that was still better than nothing. Maybe they could even lie out there during the day and do absolutely nothing for a while. After carrying out rubble for hours on end, it sounded appealing.

But not, apparently, to Daisy. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I can’t. Thanks for the offer, I guess, but I have to do things here. I was going to ask if you had time to help.”

Sharon got to her feet and gathered up her things to go back to her room. “What did you need help with?”

“Oh, you know. All of the plants. _All_ of them. Because we have more humans than we’ve ever had here and they all need to eat. Darcy is helping Jane administer the serum to people and helping Jemma note side effect. May is in meetings all the time. I got Trip to help me, but then Natasha said he and Bobbi had to get messages to other resistance groups. Some of the people who used to be vampires tried to help, but then they messed up the food and somehow killed two of the apple trees before I noticed. So now I’ve got to do everything on my own.”

Sharon stopped as she realized what Daisy was really saying, that everyone had been assigned other things that they considered more important and expected Daisy to do everything alone. And none of the people in the resistance, not even Sharon, were used to being alone. The camp had forced Sharon to live in close quarters, just as the resistance’s had forced Daisy to live with other people constantly tripping over her and her tripping over there, and now Daisy had no one around all the time. At least Sharon still had Steve and Sam. But who did Daisy have to go home to? Who was helping her with the things that needed to be done?

She smiled at Daisy. “Let’s get to it. There’s no rush on the apartment, and even if it _were_ ready, things are still too up in the air around here for us to live there again anytime soon.”

“If your hair weren’t wet,” Daisy warned, “I would hug you.”

Sharon grinned, then brightened as a thought occurred to her. “And we can turn the apartment rooftop into a small area to make food. All we need are pots and dirt.”

They stopped by her room to drop off her dirty clothes and tell Sam about the change in plans. Like her, he was tired after working for so long at the apartment. Unlike her, he had more reason to be; he had been the one putting up drywall and moving around furniture as she had tried to clean up the rubble and salvage Steve’s torn sketches. Sam lay on the bed and flipped through some of the drawings they’d saved. He nodded when she said she was going with Daisy, waved her off, and yawned as she walked away.

She worked with Daisy late into the night, talking and repotting, feeding, watering, weeding, and debating whether or not the plants would do better with genuine sunlight. At some point, she fell asleep with her hands in the dirt and her forehead against a pot.

* * *

He wasn’t as bored as he had been when he was a vampire, but Sam was still pretty damn bored. Sharon had invited him to help with the greenhouse, and when she and Daisy decided to try and grow some plants aboveground, had demanded his assistance to dig holes and carry. Abe and Jemma had been excited by his blisters and insisted on poking them and measuring the time it took the blisters to heal. Sam learned to avoid helping in the greenhouse.

He was glad to be human again. He was. He just didn’t like how it had changed things. Not needing to hurt Sharon in order to feed was great. Being awake during the day, getting to watch the sunrise without disintegrating into dust was wonderful. But Sharon worked around the clock on the plants, and Steve helped Abe or attended meetings all day about what the resistance’s next step should be. Sam went with him to some of the meetings and found them to be just as monotonous as everything else; all the arguments came down to the same thing: Steve wanted to help the rest of the resistance in overthrowing the vampires and free the country a portion at a time; Tony wanted to take the fight to the vampires all over the world. Tony claimed he wanted to cut off the head, deal with the root of the problem, and Steve just wanted to deal with the symptoms. Steve insisted that the humans had to come first.

The only good thing about the meetings would be that sometimes Steve got so upset he’d reach out and rest a hand against Sam’s until he calmed down again. Sam didn’t know why that touch mattered to him so much. It wasn’t new; it wasn’t sudden. Steve had always taken comfort from knowing the people he cared about were safe.

But after that, Sam made it a point to go with Steve to the meetings. The apartment could wait. Sharon had recovered enough that she would manage on her own. And if he had to listen to Tony prattle on or Fury snap that they were both being naive or Pepper calm everyone down, then he would, but only because he wanted to be there to support Steve. And Steve seemed to appreciate it; his hand, knee, or foot seemed to constantly brush against Sam’s in one way or another. The only downside was that Sam kept getting drawn into the discussions. He’d spent his youth on the run, his adulthood hiding from and lying to the authorities, and now they wanted him to weigh in on what their fledgling government needed.

There were a few times when Sharon reached the bedroom before falling asleep, and she’d fall on top of them and would be asleep before they got her under the covers. Most nights, though, she worked late in the greenhouse, and it was just him and Steve, and he could sleep sprawled carelessly against Steve. As vampires, bed had just been a place to spend the day. Now, they could laze in bed for hours reading reports or sketching.

Sometimes he thought Steve was looking at him more. He convinced himself he was imagining it, that he only saw it because he was looking at Steve so much more than he had.

It had been pointless to have certain thoughts as a vampire. They weren’t so pointless anymore.

It was weeks before he mustered up the courage to lean over and press a kiss to Steve’s lips. Pulling back, he found that Steve’s lips followed his. This kiss was longer, hungrier. Sam felt the heat of Steve’s hand on his waist.

“I was gonna say that I didn’t want to pressure you or make things awkward,” Sam gasped.

Steve grinned. “You’re not- Don’t worry about it. I-” He paused, his hand over Sam’s waistband. “Um. Can I-”

It took Sam a moment to realize what Steve meant. He chuckled. “We’ve known each other way too long to be weird about this, right?”

Abashed, Steve shrugged.

Sam pulled him down into another kiss. “If you don’t take them off, I will.”

* * *

Sharon’s clothes were soaked through and streaked with mud. “Let’s see if we can irrigate the rooftop garden,” she’d said. Ha. _Ha._

Tired and cold, she headed to the room to get a clean set of clothes. Daisy had already told her May wanted to start training her again, which meant Sharon would be working for several hours alone each day unless she could convince Sam to help her.

Sam, she noticed, who was currently completely naked in bed, snoring softly, his ass bared to the world. One of Steve’s arms was thrown over him, and except for a corner of a sheet, Steve, too, was naked. There was a heavy scent in the room under the smell of sweat. Neither of them stirred as she came in and gaped at them. She didn’t imagine they noticed when she left, either.

She slept in the greenroom and tried not to think of how things would change now. She knew enough to guess what they had been doing, and she couldn’t say she was surprised. They had always been close. And it was good that they had each other.

But what would happen to her? They would obviously want privacy. Would she have to move out? On the other hand, it wasn’t as if she’d spent much time with them lately. Maybe she had brought this on herself. Or maybe they had never wanted her around after all; they’d only adopted her because of Peggy, only protected her because of Peggy, and she was safe now. They had kept their promise.

She’d have to move out, she realized. If nothing else, they would need the bed to themselves. It wasn’t as if she could ever get any sleep if they were crawling all over her.

Daisy woke her in the morning, and together they got back to work. They needed more people, but Fury had insisted on sending people out to help other resistance movements; Sharon hadn’t seen Bobbi since she’d first woken up. Trip was out there somewhere, too. There was even talk of sending Darcy on the next supply run with Natasha so Darcy could learn the ropes and free Natasha up for other tasks.

And there she was, left in the green room, a dirt mite. May stopped by to pick up Daisy, and after that, Sharon was a lonely dirt mite. Still, she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t all bad. They were producing more fruit and vegetables, and they needed every bit they could get. She kept working, and over the following days worked out a plan. She got some of her clothes from the bedroom while Steve and Sam were in a meeting and stuck them in the locker room. With her clothes, a shower, and a bag of dirt to use as a pillow, she actually had more than she had before she met Steve and Sam. She could be happy with that.

The third day, Daisy roused her and sat back. “Okay. Spill. You’re sleeping in here on purpose. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Sharon rubbed her eyes and scratched absently at her neck before she realized she no longer wore her collar. “So we can get back to work faster,” she muttered. She squinted at Daisy in the bright light. “Why’re you so awake?”

Daisy grinned. “Because it’s ten in the morning? Also because May’s been talking to Tony Stark about me and he might take me on as an apprentice. Which means I’ll get to use some of the fanciest computers we’ve got. Some of it will be weapons, of course, but I’ll be able to work on our communications grid. Maybe some other stuff, too.” She beamed. “I’m hoping he’ll agree.”

Great. And then Daisy would leave for good, and she’d have to look after the plants herself. She sighed and got to her feet. She’d barely seen Tony since the Capitol; she hadn’t even managed to return his shield yet. “Let’s get back to work,” she muttered.

Daisy’s smile disappeared, but she didn’t bring up Sharon’s new sleeping habit again.

* * *

Steve had forgotten that humanity could be so exhilarating. He’d known Sam for decades, but it felt as if he hadn’t known him at all. At least, that was what he thought every night he had his hands on Sam’s skin, felt Sam’s hot breath against his mouth. They had seen each other naked in their decades together, but never before had Steve been able to do the things he’d wanted to do. Over time, he had stopped thinking about them. He sometimes wondered if their time together learning to know and trust each other was what made things now so fantastic. It certainly couldn’t have hurt.

And if anyone wanted to judge him for holding Sam’s hand as they walked through the tunnels, he’d deal with it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Daisy punching him in the arm.

“What? What was that for?” he demanded.

“Sharon!” she snapped back. “I don’t know what you did, but you’d better-” Her eyes fell to his and Sam’s clasped hands, and her expression changed. “Oh. _Oh._ Um. Sorry.” She disappeared down the hall.

Steve stared at Sam and rubbed his arm. “What the hell was that about?”

Sam made a face. “Uh... I think I know.” He looked at Steve, at their held hands, back again, and Steve’s cheeks started to flush. They hadn’t talked to Sharon about the latest development. Oh, God. If she’d seen the two of them-

“I haven’t seen her for weeks,” he admitted. “I kept thinking she’d come back to bed when she was tired.”

“And then we’d get... distracted,” Sam said. “I thought the same.” He bit his lip, and part of Steve wished he wouldn’t. Another part of him wished Sam would do more of that, only where they could be alone. “She likes boys and girls, I think.”

Steve frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Sam shrugged. He opened his mouth a couple times and finally said, “It’s a big bed.”

Steve stared at him. “There are so many reasons why- We bought her, Sam. I knew her aunt. Fed from her aunt for decades. She’s a fraction of our ages.”

Sam looked at him as if he were crazy. “I’m a fraction of your age, man. And yeah, we bought her, but she’s free now. Her aunt isn’t around anymore, and even if she were, I don’t think they’re the same person.” He shrugged. “I’m just saying. I like her. If you like her, I think you should say so. Either way, we need to clear this up.” He tugged on Steve’s hand and led the way down the hall. “Roof or greenhouse, she’s gotta be in one of them.”

* * *

“You did _what?_ ” Sharon demanded.

“I thought they’d hurt you or something!” Daisy threw her hands in the air. “You’ve been sleeping in here, you’ve got your clothes in the locker room. You’re avoiding them. You’re miserable. What was I supposed to think?”

Sharon hung her head. “I don’t know.” She wiped her hair out of her face, leaving trails of dirt on her temples. “I didn’t grow up with that stuff,” she admitted at last. “Maria didn’t even tell me what happened in the pens until I got old enough for them to take me away. But not even she knew everything that happened there. And... the vamps bred us, you know? I don’t know. I don’t think Steve and Sam are breeding.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Ooooh. No. They are definitely _not_ breeding,” she confirmed.

Sharon stared at her in disbelief.

Daisy shrugged. No apology was forthcoming. “Stay with me, Darcy, and Jemma. We can dig up another cot easy.” She paused. “And we can talk about _that_ stuff,” she added wickedly.

“If this peach weren’t vital to the survival of the camp, I’d throw it at you,” Sharon threatened.

Daisy walked around the table and hugged her from behind. “I think we’re calling it a ‘principality’ right now,” she reminded her gently. “Or maybe ‘country.’ But not ‘camp.’”

Right. She wasn’t in the camps anymore. And she had gone two days without a shower because she was slipping into that mentality. It wasn’t as if she really ever saw anyone other than Daisy these days anyway. Sharon swallowed. “Right. I’ll remember.”

Daisy nodded. “Want me to get you a cot?”

Sharon hesitated, then nodded.

The hug tightened, and then Daisy let go and left. Sharon took a deep breath and walked over to the tomato vines. They’d need more time to ripen, but they were coming along nicely. She’d always liked tomato plants. In some ways, more could go wrong with growing them, but once you understood them, they grew easily enough.

Someone cleared his throat behind her, and she froze. She knew that sound. Slowly, she turned and found Steve and Sam standing together, holding each other’s hands.

After a moment, their hands separated and went into their jacket pockets. Sharon glanced away and tried to think of something to say other than, “I saw you both naked.”

“We just thought you were busy,” Steve said quickly. “We never wanted you to get hurt.”

Sharon stared at him.

Sam groaned and covered his face.

Steve looked between them both. “We should have checked,” he said at last. “When we didn’t hear from you after a while, we should have checked. And when we started...” He glanced at Sam. “Doing what we’re doing, we should have told you. Whether you want to...” He pointed between them and her. “With us or not, you’re still part of us. And important part of us. And we should have told you.”

She looked at Sam, not only for anything he wanted to add, but for any clarification into what Steve was saying.

“We should have thought of you more,” Sam confirmed. “We got carried away with our own stuff, and we shouldn’t have neglected you.” Seeing that she still looked confused, his eyes shifted briefly to Steve. “We wouldn’t mind if you join us? You wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Anything. If you just want to sleep, that’s fine. If you want to do more, that’s fine, too. It’s entirely up to you. You’re still a part of this. Us. Our... group, I guess.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to get in their way. She didn’t want them to think of her out of her pity. “It’s okay. Daisy’s getting a cot for me in her room. I’m gonna stay there for a while.”

Both of them looked stricken for a moment, and then they both smiled too brightly to be genuine.

“Okay,” Steve said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “That’s... sorted, then. Let us know if you need anything.”

Sam nodded. “Seconding that. You’ll always be part of... this. Us.”

“You’ll always be important to us,” Steve agreed.

She nodded, but she didn’t say anything more as they left.

* * *

She had never roomed with so many girls her own age where they could just sit around and talk, but Daisy, Darcy, and Jemma didn’t stop talking until they fell asleep. In a way, it was fun. Daisy talked about how Tony was building an army of iron men, as he called them, and she was helping them connect them with each other. She was learning a lot, and after a couple suggestions about networking, Tony didn’t throw out her ideas on principle. Darcy’s stories from the hospital clinic were always funny and gross, and Jemma talked about how once she and Abe could focus on things other than the serum and its effects, she wanted to develop a way to find what had happened to the humans after the vampires took over, to try and find out who was where and trace lineage and give people an idea of where their families were. The only person in the room who knew what had happened to her parents was Daisy, but the others all agreed they suspected their parents were dead as well.

It was from them that she found out Pepper was rising as the leader of the new government. Listening to the Skull during so many years of captivity, she had a gift for management, not just of goods, but also of people. She also had tact, which Jemma assured them was the most important quality in a leader. Jemma might have been biased that day, though, as Tony had visited her lab and questioned the capabilities of all of her equipment, right down to something called a Bunsen Burner. Daisy was pleased to report that it looked like May was becoming Pepper’s right hand, and Fury seemed to support Pepper as the de facto leader, too, so long as he could keep operating the resistance from the shadows.

She almost wasn’t surprised when Pepper appeared on the roof a couple days later, Natasha beside her. Ostensibly an advisor, no one doubted that Natasha tended to shadow Pepper as a bodyguard sometimes.

“I can’t tell,” Pepper greeted her. Introductions were pointless in a place where everyone knew everyone else. “Is this a good harvest?” Besides, they had technically met before.

“It would be better if I could get some help,” Sharon admitted. “I can’t take care of all the plants on my own.”

“We’re supposed to get a group of refugees in soon.” Sharon tried not to groan; Pepper must have noticed. “I’m sure some of them would be able to help. It’s actually why I wanted to talk to you now. The old government - the one before the Skull - had a Minister of Agriculture. I heard you were the person to talk to.”

Sharon frowned. The hope of more help was good, but Pepper had wasted no time in confusing her. “About suggesting somebody?” she asked.

Pepper grinned softly. “About _being_ the Minister of Agriculture.”

Sharon stared at her. She swallowed. “Um. I’m not really ‘Minister’ material,” she said at last. “I mean, I was a dirt mite. And then a bloodbag, and now I’m just a dirt mite again.”

“I’ll be clearer,” Pepper said. “You know more about growing plants than anyone here. You know what’s needed. We’re still working out what we need in the government, so the specifics of your job may change, but you’re the only choice for Minister of Agriculture.”

“You’ll get paid,” Natasha added.

Sharon gaped at them. “Money? For- for me? To _keep?_ ”

Pepper grinned. “Is that a yes?”

Sharon gulped. “Um. Well. I’m growing the plants anyway, so... yes?”

Her grin widening, Pepper held out her hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

* * *

Sam would be lying if some of their enthusiasm had faded after their conversation with Sharon. They could remember all too well a time when people would respond different to two men holding hands. Most people nowadays didn’t seem to care; staying alive was more important than whom anyone was sleeping with.

But Sharon had cared. The person who knew them best, and she had rejected them.

Not that Sam was going to leave Steve. He didn’t think anything could ever make him leave Steve. Now that they were mortal, they could be together their entire lives and still want to spend more time together.

They tried to handle it as maturely as they could, though. They took her clothes to Daisy’s room. And then they avoided her. Because if she wanted room, that was what they would give her. Sure, there was still a faint ache, an emptiness in the room that she was supposed to fill, but they weren’t going to push her, and they had each other.

Done with meetings, the two lazed on the bed again. Steve leaned against the wall and sketched, and Sam had finally gotten to an interesting part in _War and Peace._

Not interesting enough to ignore Steve and the way he tensed and looked at the door, though. Abe wasn’t sure if it was because he’d carried the serum for so long or if it was just because he’d gotten it first, but Steve still seemed to retain a lot of his vampiric senses and strength.

About to ask what had upset him, Sam heard the shy knock at the door.

Steve jumped off the bed. “Coming!” He tossed the sketchpad on the table as he walked over and opened the door to reveal Sharon. Sam sat up and listened to the nervousness in his voice. “Sharon. You didn’t need to knock.”

“Um.” Wow. She sounded as nervous as Steve.

Sam got up and wandered over. Honestly, Steve could be a bit thick when it came to reading people sometimes. “She was afraid we were having sex, Steve.” They both blushed, and he grinned. “But don’t worry,” he told her. “It’s safe. Want to come in?”

She hesitated, then slid inside. “I just wanted to let you know. I’m Minister of Agriculture now.”

They grinned. They’d already known, of course; Sam had been the one to suggest it.

“We heard,” Steve said. “Congratulations.”

She grinned awkwardly and tucked some hair behind an ear. Was it Sam’s imagination, or did she look like she’d showered before she’d come to talk to them? “Thanks. Um. I just wanted to ask.” She paused, took a deep breath. “What _is_ a Minister of Agriculture? What’s a _minister?_ ”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. All the things she could have asked, and she’d asked _that._

Steve chuckled, too, then swallowed. “So you’re asking about that? Not about-” He glanced at Sam. “I mean, you seemed kind of upset last time.”

Her face fell, and she hugged herself.

Sam was going to have to talk to Steve about how to talk to girls.

“I didn’t like it,” Sharon admitted. Sam felt the ache in his chest become a painful chasm. “I came in here to get new clothes. And- and there was-” She pursed her lips. “You were in my spot,” she said at last, talking fast as if afraid she wouldn’t be able to otherwise.

They stared at her. Steve looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Sam asked. What the hell?

She hugged herself tighter. “I sleep in the middle,” she reminded them. “You- I mean, I get it. You did other things. But you forgot to leave room for me. And you hadn’t talked to me in a while.” She shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it. I wasn’t around as much. I kept falling asleep while I was working. You didn’t know I’d be there. I just-” Her eyes fell to the floor. “I get it. I wasn’t around and you moved on or whatever.”

Steve ducked his head. “Sharon. Are you saying you- That night you found us-”

“No!” Her vehemence caused Steve to back up. “I’m not a pengirl, Steve! Just because you’re humans now doesn’t mean you can-”

“Whoa,” Sam said quickly, raising his hands. “Jesus. We- We never meant to imply that. We would _never_ treat you like that.”

She panted, her eyes wide. He wished he could still hear her heartbeat and gauge how afraid she was, if she was afraid.

“We just thought you didn’t want us,” Steve said.

She frowned at him. “How- Why would that matter?”

“Because we care what you think,” Sam pointed out.

She blinked at him as if she’d never thought of that.

“You can have your space back,” Sam added. “Steve and I can go somewhere else so we don’t bother you.”

“I’ll- I’ll think about it.” And then she was gone, closing the door in her wake.

Sam and Steve stood watching each other.

“Did you understand any of that?” Steve asked at last.

“Fuck no. Near as I can tell, we’re all being insecure shits.”

Steve sighed and got his sketchpad from the table. He didn’t sketch much for the rest of the day, though.

* * *

Some of the refugees did, in fact, agree to help with the plants, and Sharon could have hugged each and every one of them. After a week, more of them had signed up to help, and Sharon realized she had enough help to irrigate more land outside the building and prepare it for farming. She knocked on the door to Pepper’s office one day, and Pepper promised to talk to Tony about arranging protection for the patch of land Sharon thought would do. Afterwards, Sharon bit her lip, trying to debate how to ask what else she needed to ask.

Sharon hesitated long enough that Pepper looked up from her notebook. “Yes, Sharon?”

She swallowed. “Do you and Tony have sex?”

Pepper stared at her. After a moment, she blinked. It was the only movement.

Sharon inhaled. “It’s just- I don’t know anybody who does except Steve and Sam, and they’ve-” She frowned. “I- At the camp, Maria taught us how to hold off on bleeding for as long as possible, because if the vamps found out we were bleeding we got sent to the pens. So I know about sex, but I don’t get why anybody would want it. Or why they would have it if they didn’t need to.”

Pepper’s features softened. She waved to a chair in front of her desk, then walked around to take the other chair. “Come have a seat. We’re about to have a very awkward conversation.”

* * *

Steve heard her steps in the hall and hopped off the bed. Sam looked at him curiously before following; Steve suspected he was glad for a reason not to finish _War and Peace._ He should have finished it when he was a vampire, Steve thought wryly.

He opened the door nearly as soon as she knocked and found himself looking at a basket of peaches.

“I get paid, but currency’s kind of up in the air,” she said.

He took the basket and moved aside to let her in. She hesitated, then slid inside and rubbed her hands together. Like last time, she had showered before coming over, and he was surprised to find her wearing one of her nicer dresses. She still wore only white dresses still, too, instead of the more colorful choices most humans had adopted after the Skull fell. He probably wasn’t in a position to suggest she’d be more comfortable wearing trousers. “Thank you.” He paused. “This isn’t all your pay, is it?”

She looked sheepish for a moment. “I kind of already ate a couple,” she confessed. She looked at them both and wiped her hands off on her dress. “I want to sleep here again. The others are okay, but they’re not home, you know?”

Home. Steve looked from Sharon to Sam. Yes. The two of them were home to him. The apartment, this room, ultimately meant nothing. The two of them were what was important.

“We’ll get your stuff for you, if you want,” Sam offered, a grin tugging at his lips.

She looked doubtful. “And I was thinking... We can _try_ the sex thing? I’ve never done it before, but I talked it over with Pepper, and she- she helped.”

Sam stared at Steve; he stared back.

“You talked to Pepper about us?” Steve asked.

She nodded. “And she said if I tell you to stop something and you don’t, that she’ll kill you and damn the consequences.”

Sam hid his grin behind a hand.

Sharon bit her lip, and it occurred to Steve that he might have a turn-on. “Diplomacy is scary,” she mused thoughtfully.

Sam nodded. “Definitely can be, yeah.”

Steve closed the door and set the basket on the table. “We’ll start slow,” he promised. “Very slow.” He glanced at Sam. Not like they had done. Sure, he and Sam had taken decades to make out, but after that, they had made up for lost time with zeal. He stopped in front of Sharon and reached out to stroke her cheek, stopping when she shivered. “Want me to stop?”

She shook her head and leaned into his hand. “Can’t be worse than being fed from,” she said nervously.

Again, he shared a look with Sam. That wasn’t enthusiasm.

He kept his touch light and leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. He didn’t miss the sound Sam made.

He pulled away and grinned at Sharon’s dumbfounded expression. “That okay?”

She looked confused for a moment. “I kind of thought there’d be more,” she admitted.

Sam chuckled. “That comes later, if you want,” he said. He moved closer and bent to kiss her as Steve had. This time, Sharon leaned into a little. Steve swallowed thickly. “But for now,” Sam admitted, “I wouldn’t mind just lying in bed like we used to. I miss it.”

* * *

Steve got death threats from each of Sharon’s roommates when he went with her to pick up her things. He nodded and smiled at each one, then told them where he was staying and that he would let them kill him if he ever hurt Sharon.

“You’ve got good friends,” he told her as they headed back to their room.

She grinned. “See why I wanted to stay with them for a while?”

“For a while” was the operative phrase. If she had stayed with them for good, he wouldn’t like them as much.

He and Sam changed their schedule again, not for the first time since taking her in and maybe not for the last. They made it a point to always have her tucked in safely between them when they slept. If she worked late, they made sure to track her down in the new field, rooftop garden, or greenhouse. Gradually, she initiated more kisses, deeper ones that pressed her body against theirs. They kept their word to have sex elsewhere, but after several weeks she asked if they wouldn’t mind letting her watch. Steve understood; she wanted to see that there was nothing to be afraid of. It was still the best sex he’d had since he and Sam first got together.

And when he woke up to them shaking him, only to see Sharon shyly straddling a wide-eyed Sam and leaning over for a kiss, he found that he had to revise his best-sex list yet again.

“To mortality,” Sam panted, his hand reaching blindly for theirs.

Sharon made a sound in her throat and squirmed languidly between them, but Steve had the wherewithal to give him a sound kiss over her head. “To mortality,” he agreed.


End file.
